Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes
by Catmint
Summary: Starts in the moments immediately following "Till Death Us Do Part". Dearing's bomb causes huge repercussions across the whole of NCIS and beyond, and for some, their lives are drastically and irrevocably changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 1

_BANG!_ The lift containing NCIS Special Agents Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David dropped suddenly and violently down. Tony fell to the floor, Ziva on top of him, as the lights flickered and went out and debris tumbled down.

_CRASH! _The lift smashed into the bottom of the shaft and part of the lift ceiling landed on top of them.

Then silence. Tony cautiously opened one eye, then the other. It was dark. His left wrist _hurt_; he suspected that it was broken. He became aware of something pressing on his body. _Ziva._ "Hey, Zi, you awake?" he asked hesitantly. "Zi? Ziva?"

A faint groan was all he got in response. "Okay, you're alive. That's good. How are you?"

"Ouch," she replied weakly, not moving.

"Where?"

"I think everywhere."

Tony didn't like the sound of that. "Now, I know you like it on top," he joked, "but it's kinda hard to breathe. You cool with getting off?"

Ziva took a deep breath and attempted to roll off him, but the pain was too great for her to be able to lift herself up. "You will have to push me, Tony."

"Okay – oh."

"What?"

Tony sighed. "There's something heavy and metally on you. I think I broke my wrist and I don't think I can lift it off you with one hand. I might be able to slide out from under you." When she consented, he wrapped his left arm around her to stop her from being injured further, and using his legs and other arm, manoeuvred his way out from under his partner; gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and wrist, he lowered Ziva to the floor, still on her front.

"Does that help?" she asked him faintly.

Tony sat up. "Yeah. How are you holding up?"

"I am holding up the ceiling of the elevator."

Tony frowned for a moment while his brain processed her words. "I can't tell if I've confused you or you're actually playing with my words."

"I am not sure." She was obviously trying to mask how much pain she was in but it was still very apparent in her voice.

"Having part of the ceiling on your back and legs must be painful," observed Tony.

"I cannot feel it…" replied Ziva in confusion. "Why can I not feel it? Tony?" Panic filled her voice. "Something is wrong; I should be able to feel _that_, should I not?"

Tony fought back his own sense of panic and tried to be calm for her sake. "It's probably just the adrenaline. There was a guy at college who broke his arm in a football match and didn't notice until the game was over." In his head he knew he was grasping at straws.

"I will take your word for it." She paused. "I hope everyone is alive."

"Me too."

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated. "Can – can I hold your hand? It is dark and I just – I need to know that you are here and alive and that I am not dreaming."

Though she couldn't see it, Tony smiled a little and felt around until he found her hand. "I'm not going anywhere. You know, this reminds me of a movie…"

Ziva listened as he talked about a movie she'd never heard of, hoping it would distract her from their situation and the pain in her body, as well as her worry over everyone else.

After a while, she had an idea. "Tony? Do you have your phone?"

He checked his pockets and withdrew his phone. "Yeah, I do. Want me to call someone?"

"Yes. McGee, Gibbs, Abby, any of them."

Tony squeezed her hand comfortingly. "I'll try Abby first." Before calling, he used the light from his phone screen to get an idea of their situation. The dim light revealed a partially-collapsed lift ceiling and the full extent of the pieces of ceiling on top of Ziva. Tony's blood ran cold: a large piece of what had once been the lift ceiling was pressing hard on her lower back. That, coupled with her comment about not being able to feel anything, caused the full implications to hit Tony suddenly, and he silently swore. He mentally shook himself and set about calling Abby.

It rang five times and then was answered. "Tony?" came Abby's voice shakily.

"Oh, thank God you're alive, Abs!" exclaimed Tony in relief. "Where are you?"

"My lab. The bomb was right above and it blew out the windows."

"Are you OK?"

"A few scratches from glass and other debris, but yeah, I'm OK. Gibbs is here with me; I think he hit his head on something. He's alive but I'm pretty sure he's unconscious. You?"

"Elevator. It fell. Half the ceiling's on Ziva."

"_OhmyGod_! How bad? Is she in pain? Is she conscious? Is she alright?"

Tony let out a deep breath. "I don't know, Abs. I can't get her free – it's too heavy, I've only got one good hand and the only light we have is from my cell."

"If we get rescued first, I'll tell them where you are."

"Same. Have you heard from McGoo?"

Abby's voice shook as she spoke. "I've tried a few times but it goes straight to voicemail every time."

"Crap."

"Yeah."

"Abs, I should go for now, conserve the battery."

"Okay. I'll text you if I hear anything else from Tim."

"Me too. Bye."

"Bye, Tony." She hung up.

"Abby's OK?"

Yeah. Gibbs is unconscious. She – she can't get through to McGee." His voice caught slightly in his throat – _Sure, I tease McGeek a lot, but he's my little brother, _he thought. _He has to be alive, he __**has **__to be! _

"Maybe he did not have his phone with him," suggested Ziva. "He often leaves it on his desk when he is in the building. It does not necessarily mean bad news." She gripped his hand more tightly.

"I hope so," replied Tony quietly.

"Tony…" She paused, attempting to collect herself. "I cannot feel my legs. At all. I can feel my arms and body, but I cannot feel anything below my waist. I – I'm scared, Tony."

"We'll get you out of this," he promised, reaching down and lightly caressing her face in the dark, knowing how bad it must be for her to admit that she was in this state. "I've got you."

Even though she knew he couldn't see it, she smiled. "Good."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

About an hour later, Tony's phone rang and he quickly answered it. "Abs!"

"We're out," she told him. "They were able to get through the lab windows. Gibbs is OK except they think he might have a concussion so they've hauled him off to the hospital."

Tony chuckled. "Did he fight?"

"He was still fighting them when they shut the ambulance doors."

"I bet. McGee?"

"They – they haven't found him yet. Tony – Agent Reyes from Cybercrimes is dead."

Tony closed his eyes. "I liked Reyes."

Ziva raised her head slightly. "Reyes? He is dead?"

Sighing sadly, Tony nodded, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "Yeah. He is. Abs, I'm gonna go for now." He hung up.

"Bastard."

Tony blinked in surprise. He'd never heard her swear in English before, although there had been a few occasions when he suspected she had sworn in Hebrew. "Yeah. We'll get Dearing."

"Is it possible for us to charge him with murder?"

"If anyone can find a way, it's Vance," Tony assured her. "How are you doing?"

"The same." She sighed, desperately wishing for _some_thing that even vaguely resembled sensation in her legs. She didn't want to think about what the lack of it could mean. "You?"

"The same. I've been worse. A broken wrist can't kill me like the plague almost did."

"That is a good point." She fell silent and focused on listening for faint sounds from outside their metal prison, trying to work out if help was coming yet.

"Ninja skills tingling?" teased Tony.

"Perhaps." Her tone made it clear that she wanted him to be quiet in order to listen; she was pleased that he did so. She actually didn't mind that it was Tony she was trapped with, given the circumstances: Abby would be hysterically panicking and McGee would be nervous and terrified about touching her in case he hurt her further. "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Jimmy and Ducky know yet?" She bit her lip.

"I don't know sweetcheeks." He jumped when his phone rang. "Hey, Abs."

"They've found Timmy."

Tony sat up straighter and put his phone on speaker. "What's the situation?"

"He's unconscious and he's got a broken arm and leg. He should be OK, they've said. Do you guys mind if I go to the hospital with him?"

"Of course not! Go!" ordered Ziva. "I am sure we will be there soon enough. And it is not like Tony or I are alone; we do at least have each other for company."

"Okay. I'll see you later." She was clearly desperate to stay with McGee.

"Bye," said Tony, ending the call and picking up Ziva's hand again. "I'm glad they got McGoo out safely. Poor Reyes, though. Man. Hasn't he got a kid?"

"Two," corrected Ziva. "Twins. They are three, I believe. They will barely remember him. How many more –?"

"_Don't_, Zi," Tony interrupted. He lay down beside her and put his arm around her, as much for his own comfort as for hers. "I don't want to think about that unless we have to."

A noise, nearer than anything they had heard up to that point, made them jump and Ziva sucked in her breath at the pain the sudden movement caused her. Tony gently ran his hand over her back.

Another sound, nearer still. Tony lifted his head. "Hello?" he called. "_Hello_? Who's there?"

Scrambling noises, then a thin beam of torchlight appeared in the lift from above. "Agents DiNozzo and David?" asked a man's voice from above them, slightly distorted.

"Yes!" they both responded loudly.

"The forensic scientist said you were here. I'm Hamilton from the Fire Department to assess the situation. Are you hurt?"

"I think I've got a broken wrist," Tony told him. "Ziva's trapped under the elevator ceiling – it collapsed on her."

"It should be easy enough to get you out, Agent DiNozzo," Hamilton told him. "Once we get you to safety we can work on getting Agent David out."

"I'm not leaving her here alone," said Tony firmly.

Ziva felt herself blush slightly, glad that Tony could not see it. "I will be fine."

"I'm staying," he reiterated. "You're my partner."

"Thank you." She relaxed a little as he lightly drew circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut and she fell into a light doze, comforted by the knowledge that Tony was watching over her.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Many thanks to all my kind reviewers! I'm planning to update this about every 3 or 4 days, as I'm typing it up as I go along (I write everything by hand in notebooks before typing stuff up because I find it flows much better than typing straight onto a screen, plus it's much easier to just whip out while you're waiting for appointments and so on).

NCIS-1001 – please don't kill me! I don't like it when programmes do the "all the main characters get out without a scratch because we can't bear to hurt them" thing; I'm going for something more realistic and darker.

There is Tiva in this, as people have probably already realised.

Reyes' name is pronounced "Ray-uhs" (I yoinked his name from the Spanish guy who used to play for Arsenal FC).

Apologies for any inadvertent linguistic errors – I'm British so there may be some Briticisms in there somewhere!

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 2

Three hours passed before the rescuers were able to extract Ziva; it had been a difficult task that had involved winching her up through the lift ceiling to the next floor while she was strapped to the paramedics' spinal board. Tony was able to climb out after her, with Hamilton's assistance.

Both were shocked and horrified at the sight that met their eyes as they emerged from the lift shaft, even Ziva, who was used to seeing such things. Lying on the stretcher, she gripped Tony's hand tightly. Parts of the building further away from where the bomb had detonated remained standing, but a lot had crumbled. The air was thick with dust and an eerie, strangely quiet atmosphere greeted them, reminiscent of scenes from movies, for Tony. Around them rescue efforts were not very visible and Tony enquired after it.

"You're about the last ones out," Hamilton explained. "There are a couple of people in one of the stairwells but they're not badly hurt; the problem is that there's a lot of rubble blocking the exit options so they've gotta wait until we can clear it. Everyone's been accounted for, although some are still being rescued."

"How many have died?" asked Ziva, gritting her teeth through the pain, not wanting to know the answer but at the same time needing to.

"Three."

"We know about Agent Reyes," Tony said.

"The others are some low-ranking government official and a suspect."

"It could have been a lot worse," Ziva said quietly. She was tired and struggling to focus beyond the pain.

"Yeah. It's a good thing you guys got people outta the building so quickly – I heard what you did."

Tony released Ziva's hand, placing it over her stomach. At her questioning look he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I need to call Abby, let her know we're out and on our way."

Ziva gave him a weak smile. "Of course. Put it on speakerphone."

Abby's phone rang four times before she answered. "TonyTonyTonyTony_Tony_! Have they got you guys out?"

"Yeah. They're just putting Ziva in the ambulance so we'll be at the hospital soon."

"I'll meet you in the ER. Tim's awake now, but they've put him on _loads_ of painkillers and he's not making much sense."

"You mean less sense than usual?" joked Tony.

"I am not surprised," commented Ziva.

"I gotta go, Tony – battery's dying."

"Sure; see you in a bit, Abs." Tony hung up and, once Ziva had been loaded into the ambulance, he climbed in as well and once again took her hand. "You know, Zi, you're a mess."

"You are not so warm, either."

"_Hot_, Zi, not warm."

She shrugged. "You knew what I meant."

He nodded in concession. "That's true." He fell silent and it was a quiet journey to the hospital. When they arrived, he was promptly hauled off to have his wrist X-rayed, annoyed that they were separating him from Ziva, mostly because he was so worried about her, but a whirl of Hurricane Abby kept him distracted.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

An hour and a half later, dusk was falling and Tony had been diagnosed with a broken wrist and the injury cased in plaster. His first thought was Ziva. A nurse took him to see her, in one of the ER's side rooms.

The sound of the door opening caught Ziva's attention. "Tony?"

"I'm here." He almost ran to her bedside, limping slightly from a twisted ankle (something he had not registered before) and took her hand. "How're you doing?"

"I am not in any danger of dying," she told him, thoroughly relieved. "I am quite tired – the doctors have been doing lots of tests."

"What kinds of tests?" It had not escaped his keen investigator's eye that she was lying flat on her back, her main body immobilised by some sort of frame or support.

She wanted to brush it off as minor and routine, but it was anything but, and she bit her lip, hesitating a little. "To see how badly injured I am."

"And?"

She gripped his hand tightly. "It is a little early to be sure, but – but they think…" She blinked back the tears that were filling her eyes. "They think it is unlikely that I will ever walk again."

Tony's eyes widened in shock. "What – what do you mean?"

"I am paralysed, Tony." She used her free hand to wipe away the tears that had escaped and were slipping down the sides of her face. "From the waist down. From – from where the ceiling of the elevator landed on me."

"Oh, Zi…" His heart broke for her as the reality hit him; his crazy ninja chick would never walk again. "Zi, I'm not going anywhere. I've got you. Whatever."

She gave him a weak smile and changed the subject, needing something to take her mind off her injuries before she completely broke down. "What is the news on Gibbs and McGee?"

"Gibbs is trying to get himself kicked out of the observation ward and Abby's gone to get McGee so they can see you. They should be here soon. Vance was outside on his phone a few minutes ago. Probably yelling at someone." He paused. "You know Agent Sanchez from across the bullpen? She died in ICU a few minutes ago."

"What?" came Abby's voice from behind him. "Maria – Maria's _dead_?"

Tony turned round and shifted so Ziva could see Abby and McGee, the latter of whom was sat in the hospital wheelchair that Abby was pushing, his left arm and leg in casts. Both sported various grazes and cuts. "Yeah, Abs. She had major internal bleeding and a bad head injury."

"She's – she _was_," Abby corrected herself, "really sweet." She wiped a couple of tears from her face, smudging further what was left of her makeup. "How are you guys?"

Tony held up his plastered wrist with a wry grin. "Been better, but it sure beats the plague."

"I can imagine," replied McGee, his face mirroring Tony's expression.

Ziva forced herself to smile, but it only triggered more tears and she wondered when she had become such a crybaby. She felt Tony squeeze her hand and she gripped back as she turned her face away. How could she possibly tell them?

"Ziva?" asked Abby nervously. "What's happened? Something's really really wrong, isn't it? Ziva?"

She couldn't tell them; the words caught in her throat and she almost choked on them. She hadn't felt such emotional pain since she first got told about Tali's death.

"The elevator ceiling fell on her," said Tony quietly. "She's paralysed from the waist down. They don't think she'll ever walk again."

McGee's eyes widened and Abby squeaked in horror. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmy_God_, Ziva!" she cried. She looked anxiously between Tony and McGee, not knowing how to react or what to say. "That's _terrible_! You poor thing! Do – do you need a hug?"

Ziva shook her head firmly. "No. Please. Can you give me a few minutes?"

"Sure…" Abby looked slightly hurt, but steered McGee out of the room and the door shut behind them.

Tony began to pull his hand away but Ziva tightened her grip and turned her face to him, tears blurring her vision again. "Please do not go, Tony," she pleaded.

"Why don't you want Abby here? I thought she was one of your best friends?"

"I love Abby but I cannot deal with hugs or pity right now," explained Ziva.

Tony nodded slowly. "I can understand that. Don't feel too bad about it – she can be a bit much sometimes."

"I am tired. Can – can you stay with me?" asked Ziva hesitantly, hating that she needed someone.

"Of course." Tony sat down on the side of her bed and gently, comfortingly, stroked her face as she drifted off to sleep.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

NCIS Director Leon Vance paced up and down outside the hospital, waiting for the person at the other end to answer.

Eventually they did and Vance let out the breath he had been holding. "Shalom, Eli."

"Leon, what can I do for you?" replied Mossad director Eli David from Tel Aviv.

"We have a situation."

"What kind?"

"Some jerk with a grudge against the Navy decided to blow up NCIS headquarters."

"WHAT?!"

"Agents Reyes and Sanchez are dead. Eli – Ziva's hurt. Hurt _bad_."

Eli's blood ran cold. "What happened?"

"She was in the elevator with DiNozzo – they were evacuating the building – when the bomb detonated. The elevator crashed and half the ceiling landed on her back. She's paralysed from the waist down. Eli, your daughter will never walk again."

"I will be on the next flight to Washington," declared the Mossad director.

Vance blinked in surprise. Of all the responses he had anticipated, that was not one of them, and the arguments he had prepared to persuade Eli to come, dissipated, unrequired.

"I will call you when I know which flight I am on and when it lands."

"I'll meet you at the airport," Vance promised him. "What about security for yourself?"

"Do not worry; it is covered. I will see you soon. Do not tell Ziva; I want it to be a surprise for her."

"Of course. Shalom, Eli."

"Shalom, Leon."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

While Ziva slept, Tony slipped out of her room to where Abby and McGee, just as he had suspected, lurked in the hallway. "Abs, I'm really sorry –"

"It's OK, Tony," Abby assured him, sniffling a little. "I forget sometimes that not everyone can always deal with my…"

"Abby-ness?" offered McGee.

"Yeah. Especially Ziva. But God…Paralysed…" She looked at them with wide eyes. "What's she gonna _do_?"

"Is there any way she could stay as an NCIS agent?" asked McGee. "I mean, I'm sure there's plenty of stuff she could still do."

Tony sighed and glanced back at his partner through the ajar door. "If she wants to and if she'll still be allowed to."

"But – but it would be _wrong _without Ziva!" cried Abby.

"Yeah," agreed Tony. "How's the Bossman?"

Abby winced. "Caffeine withdrawal."

"Ouch. I think I'll put off seeing him for a bit. Gibbs without caffeine is worse than a bear with a sore head." He was relieved when the other two returned his remark with wry smiles. "Ziva's asleep right now. We were about the last ones out. I think a couple of people were still trapped but I don't know any more than that."

"If I get my hands on Harper Dearing," announced Abby, "I will _personally _ensure his disappearance without leaving any forensic evidence."

"That's after Ziva's killed him with a paperclip," joked McGee. Abby giggled.

"What's happening with you, Tim?" asked Tony, growing serious again.

McGee shrugged. "They're keeping me in for a few days; after that I don't know. I'm not sure how I'm going to manage like this – it's not like I can go around on crutches."

"Come stay with me," offered Abby immediately.

"Oh. Thanks. Erm… I'll think about it."

"I'm gonna go check on Ziva," said Tony, heading back into the room. His partner was still asleep and he suspected this was the first time in many years that she did not have a gun under her pillow. He sat down on the bed and carefully picked up her hand, not wanting to wake her. She looked so delicate and fragile, so unlike the independent, strong Ziva that he was used to; it hurt and worried him. He just wanted to take her home, and protect and look after her.

The door opened and Ziva's doctor appeared. "We're taking her upstairs," she said, keeping her voice low. "In a few days she'll be transferred to the spinal unit."

"Can I stay with her?" asked Tony anxiously.

"Sure." He wasn't going to leave her side if he could help it, and the doctor could see that. She thought they looked quite sweet and they obviously cared a great deal about each other.

"Thanks." He got off the bed but remained close to her side as the staff carefully moved Ziva from the room, nodding at Abby and McGee as he passed them, his hand never leaving hers.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC

**A/N: **Sanchez briefly gets identified in mid-late season 7.


	3. Chapter 3

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Sentences in italics = Hebrew.

This is a much longer chapter than anticipated, but ah well, that's how these things work out.

Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed!

Abby: There's plenty more to come, don't worry!

Kat: I'm really pleased you think so *blushes*

NazChick: I'm surprised at how I'm writing Eli in this fic, especially given my other fic, Breaking Point, as well as my general opinion of him, but he's not a particularly straightforward character so trying to understand him is difficult.

DS2010: My friend and I are working together on a fic that will be a companion to this story with Gibbs trying to get himself kicked out of the observation ward; hopefully it will be quite amusing.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 3

It was eight o'clock the following morning when Ziva woke up properly, momentarily disoriented. Then the previous day's events came flooding back to her, as did the pain in her upper body – and the lack of sensation below her waist.

_Paralysed_. The doctor's verdict started bouncing around the inside of her head again. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and glanced down at her side, smiling at the sight of Tony in the chair next to her, his head on the bed and his hand still around hers.

There was a knock on the door and Gibbs poked his head in. Tony, oblivious, carried on sleeping, snoring quietly; Ziva made a mental note to tease him about it later. "Hey, kid," said Gibbs softly. "Mind if I join you?"

"I am not going anywhere," replied Ziva. "They let you out?"

Gibbs shrugged and came in, coffee in his hand, and sat down in the other chair, gesturing to Tony. "Has he even left?"

She shook her head. "Only for the bathroom. How is your head?"

"Had worse. At least I don't have amnesia." Gibbs smiled wryly. "No need to get me to smack your round the back of the head this time."

Ziva took a deep breath. "What do you know?"

"DiNozzo's got a broken wrist, McGee's out of action for the next three months and Abby will be fine once the cuts heal." He put his coffee down on the floor next to his chair and moved over to stand beside her, brushing a hand over her forehead. "Dr. Edwards told me what happened," he said softly. "How are you holding up?"

She shrugged. "It does not seem quite real yet.

It is just…strange. I cannot move my legs and last night Tony tried to tickle my feet." She paused, blinking back tears at the memory. "I did not know he was doing it until he told me so. What am I going to do if I cannot walk?"

"If it's what you want, I see no reason for you to have to leave my team."

Ziva had not been expecting that; she had been certain that this would mean the end of her life with NCIS. "Is it even possible?"

"Don't see why not."

She frowned. "But most crime scenes…"

"Can be worked around."

"But Vance…"

"You're a damn good agent, Ziva. I'll deal with Vance. He's talking to Agent Wilson's family – he died a couple of hours ago and the family just got here."

Ziva was silent for a moment. She hadn't really known Wilson other than repeatedly brushing off his advances – he was around fifty and it had creeped her out. "I cannot say I am too upset."

"He got a few headslaps from me."

"What did he do to you?"

"Wouldn't stop checking out my female agents."

"He was not exactly subtle."

"I remember Kate went through a phase of putting things in his coffee when he was chasing her." Gibbs smiled at the memory. "I never found out what it was but I think Abby had a hand in it."

Ziva smiled. "I can easily believe that. I must admit that I was tempted to do something similar."

"You and Kate would've got on pretty well," remarked Tony through a yawn as he drifted into wakefulness. "I wish you could've met her."

Ziva gave him a sad smile. "Me too."

Tony frowned, the full details of the conversation penetrating his sleepy brain. "Why _are _we talking about Kate, Boss?"

"Wilson died overnight," Gibbs informed him.

"Harper Dearing's gonna be a dead man soon," said Tony. "Half of Wilson's family are CIA and the other are military." He looked at Ziva properly. "How's my crazy ninja this morning?" He thought he saw Gibbs' face twitch a little.

"Not looking forward to seemingly endless weeks of hospital food," replied Ziva, wrinkling her face. "Or finding somewhere new to live."

"Why would you be doing that?"

"Tony!" cried Ziva in exasperation. "My apartment is on the fourth floor. _No elevators_."

"Ah."

"Half the cupboards are at or above my head when I am standing. How am I meant to get anything down from them or even get _into _the apartment in the first place if I am going to be spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair?" she exploded. "I _can't_! I will have to move, I will have to _completely rebuild my life_, Tony!"

Tony bit his lip. "Zi, I'm sorry, I wasn't think – Boss!" he exclaimed as he received a firm smack to the back of his head.

"Go get some breakfast, DiNozzo. That's an _order_," added Gibbs. "I've had mine; I'll stay with Ziva."

"On it, Boss." Reluctantly, Tony released Ziva's hand and left out of the room in search of food that he could bring back with him.

Gibbs sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and wiped away the tears that were silently slipping down his surrogate daughter's face. "Hey, kid," he said softly again.

It was too much and Ziva let out a broken sob, turning her face away. She attempted to roll over onto her side and curl up into a tight ball, but the brace stopped her – not that her unresponsive legs would have behaved anyway. Her explosion at Tony had just rammed home her situation and made it real to her, and it _hurt_. She was paralysed. She would never walk again. She would be completely dependent on a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

She felt Gibbs stroking her hair comfortingly, saying nothing but letting her know that he was there for her; that gesture meant the world to her. She no longer cared how much pain her sobs were causing as they shook her body violently; one moment had irreversibly changed her life forever. "What am I going to do?" she choked out despairingly.

"We'll figure it out," answered Gibbs in a gentle, soothing voice. "You concentrate on getting yourself better. I'll take you back, wheelchair or no wheelchair. It's going to be a while before we've got somewhere to actually work, anyway. Vance showed me some photos of what's left of the building."

"I am not going to get better."

Gibbs squeezed her shoulder, his heart going out to her. "Yes you are, Ziva," he countered sternly. "You've got all of us. We'll get you through this."

She sniffled a little and turned her face towards him. "I'm scared."

"I know. But you're not on your own, you got that?"

She managed a weak smile. "Got it."

"Good." He smiled back and a comfortable silence descended until a nurse arrived with breakfast.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Ziva's morning had been exhausting. Doctors, nurses and various therapists had assessed, examined, poked, pulled and prodded her. Only the presence of Gibbs and Tony stopped her screaming at them to go away and leave her alone. She was tired, she was in a lot of pain and her body had decided to completely destroy any shred of dignity she had left. Now she was lying on her side as she was cleaned up – cleaned like a helpless baby – and Tony hadn't left, instead holding her hand through it all, talking to her and never taking his eyes off her tear-stained face.

She was relieved when the nurses lay her down and pulled the clean covers over her. "This is so embarrassing," she muttered angrily.

Tony shook his head. "You've never mooned or flashed the college bursar, have you? The sixty-seven-year-old college bursar. And his wife."

She arched one eyebrow, "How drunk were you?"

"No idea. Frat thing."

"Of course." She rolled her eyes.

"I think the wife liked what she saw…" He winked at her. "Ow! Hey! What was that for?!"

Ziva smirked as the plastic cup hit his head. "For boasting. And disgraceful behaviour."

"Well, I made you smile," he shot back.

"Did you make that up just for the purpose of making me smile?"

Tony went a little pink. "I wish I could say yes, but apparently there is evidence that suggests otherwise. I don't know who has it; trust me, if I did, it would _not _still be in existence."

"What time is it?" asked Ziva. "I do not have my watch."

Tony smiled and reached into his pocket. "I was looking after it; your necklace, too, because they couldn't let you have it on for your scans. I put it back as soon as I could." He put the watch on her wrist, slightly clumsily because of the cast on his left wrist.

"Thank you, Tony." She reached out and took his hand. "Where is Abby? I owe her an apology."

"I think she's trying to figure out whether her place or McGee's is more suitable while his arm and leg heal. He's not too happy. Casts are pretty uncomfortable."

"I know. I have broken several bones. Ballet class with a broken wrist is not so easy. I was told to stay away until the cast was off."

"How old were you?" Tony was well aware of how rarely Ziva mentioned her childhood, so he gave her his full attention.

"Eleven. I fell out of a tree. One of the older boys had thrown Tali's favourite toy into it and our brother beat them up. It was not the strongest of trees."

"Ouch."

She shrugged. "I have had worse." She glanced down at her immobilised lower body, the legs that no longer worked. "I have seen worse. Not long after I moved here from Israel, after – after Kate and Ari and everything, a neighbour of mine had a severe stroke and she now has Locked-In Syndrome." She shuddered. "I could not live like that, totally dependent on others for _everything_."

"It's a good thing you weren't injured higher up," said Tony soberly. "You could have ended up like that."

Ziva was silent for a while, lost in thought. Tony had a point: she could still use her arms fully, she had no problems with communication (except when ridiculous American idioms made no sense whatsoever), her brain had not been affected… She thought of Mrs. O'Leary and how the stroke had taken her life so completely from her. "I have been lucky," she said slowly and thoughtfully. She laughed a little and shook her head. "Never did I think I would feel lucky about being paralysed. But at least it was not my neck. And I am thankful to be alive – not like Wilson, Reyes or Sanchez."

"Yeah." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sure it won't be too long before you're doing all sorts of crazy ninja tricks in a super-cool ninja wheelchair."

His grin was infectious and Ziva couldn't help smiling with him. They both jumped when someone knocked on the door. "Yes?" called Ziva.

Gibbs appeared. "You've got a visitor, Ziva," he told her.

"Who?"

Gibbs opened the door wider and gestured into the hall.

"Just _let me see my daughter_!" An Israeli man was yelling.

"After you sent her to Somalia on a suicide mission and _none_ of your people even _attempted_ to rescue her?" demanded Abby. "I don't think so!"

Ziva was stunned. "My father is here?" she whispered in disbelief. Tony looked equally shocked.

"Did you know," continued Abby, in full rant mode now, "that I am one of the _very few _people in the world who could kill you and leave _no forensic evidence_?"

"Did _you _know," retorted Eli David, "that as Director of Mossad, I have at my beck and call a number of equally-skilled people who could do precisely that to you if you tried?"

_Smack_. "Ow!" exclaimed Abby.

_Smack_. "Hey!" from Eli.

Tony and Ziva both snickered. "Gibbs," they said in unison.

"Shut up, the pair of you," ordered Gibbs. "Abby, go help McGee with his lunch. Eli, go see your daughter. _Now_."

A clatter of platform boots indicated that Abby had scuttled off; a moment later there was a hesitant knock on the door.

"Come in," called Ziva, still not quite convinced that her father was actually here.

Eli David nervously entered the room. "My dear Ziva! How are you?"

She shrugged. "I am not so bad. What are you doing here? How did you find out so quickly?"

"Leon called me," her father explained. "I got on the next flight out of Tel Aviv. He told me what happened to you."

"I am a little surprised you came at all." She deliberately spoke in English rather than Hebrew.

Eli looked stung. "That was a little harsh."

"Was it?"

He sighed. "I thought we had moved past all this, Ziva."

She shrugged. "You are a very busy man; you can hardly just leave everything and come all the way to Washington at the drop of a beret."

"Hat, Ziva," Tony automatically corrected her.

Eli's eyes narrowed as he registered Tony's presence, even more so when he noticed the agent's hand intertwined with his daughter's. "Agent DiNozzo," he noted coolly. He looked back at his daughter. "When I was here last year, I really think we made some progress. Then Leon phoned and said NCIS had been bombed. Ziva, you are my daughter, the only child I have left; I came so close to losing you." He reached out and brushed his fingers across her face.

Ziva bit her lip, taken aback by the emotion he was showing: this was not normal for him. "You are growing soft in your old age," she teased lightly.

Eli gave her a wry smile. "Perhaps," he conceded. "Or maybe I needed to realise some things, such as what is important to me."

Ziva looked away, a mess of conflicting emotions, with no idea how to react. Part of her was suspicious and cynical, wanting him to go back to Israel and leave her to live her life; the other half of her wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms. Not that the latter was an option.

"_**Please **__stop pushing me away, Ziva_," he pleaded, switching to Hebrew. "_I know things have been difficult between us in the past, but maybe we can start afresh? I would like that very much_."

Ziva pulled her hand from Tony's and wiped the tears from her eyes with both hands. "_I cannot believe you are here_," she whispered, also slipping into her mother tongue. "_You came… I needed you and you came and I did not even have to ask for you but __**you still came**_!"

"_I did_," confirmed Eli. He sat down on the edge of her bed, leaned down and kissed her forehead, running his fingers along the side of her face.

The gesture caught her off-guard and she grasped his hand, finally meeting his eyes. "_Thank you, Abba_," she said softly.

"_I will stay as long as you want me to_," he promised.

"_But work_…"

"_Leon and Fornell have cleared me to use their facilities if necessary. And I have my phones and my BlackBerry. I have everything covered; do not worry, my princess. I am here_."

"_I would hug you but that is not really possible and we have never hugged each other so why break the habit of a lifetime?_"

"_Perhaps, Ziva, it is time that we __**did **__break the habit of a lifetime_." He stood up and stretched. "_Do not mind me – I do not fly as well as I used to_."

"_Where will you stay while you are here?_"

"_Leon has cleared it with his wife for me to stay with him: it is near here and it is a secure place._"

Ziva smiled wryly. "_I often think that you have a better relationship with him than you do with me._"

"_Then we need to change that, if that is what you want._"

"_It would be nice, perhaps. Abba, I am tired and I need to sleep_."

Eli smiled warmly. "_Of course. I must speak with Leon but I will be back later. Sleep well_." He turned and left, allowing Tony to scoot closer to her.

"That seemed a lot more civil than before," Tony observed.

Ziva nodded and started to reply, then caught herself, realising that her brain was still in Hebrew mode; she consciously switched to English. "We are going to make a…bright start?"

"Fresh."

"Ah yes. _Fresh _start. Tony, I need to sleep now."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, not sure what she was trying to say.

"Not if you do not want to; however, I _do _need to sleep so I will not be very good company."

"I'll stay."

"Thank you." She closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

_ER _reference in here!

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 4

Closing the door behind him, Eli nodded at Gibbs. "Have you seen Leon?"

"Gone for coffee; he'll be back soon," replied Gibbs neutrally. "How's she doing, Eli?"

Eli sat down on the chair opposite him. "She did not think I would come." He sighed wearily. "I cannot say I blame her. But this incident… It has made me realise how close I came to losing her. I have already lost two of my children; she is the only one I have left and relations between us have been…strained. I want to make things right between us before it is too late and I do not get a chance to."

"Yeah, I can understand that." Gibbs was silent for a moment. "Because trust me, you don't want to leave it too late." He looked up as a shadow fell over them.

"Coffee," announced Vance. "Got you some tea, Eli." He handed out the drinks and sat down in the chair next to Gibbs.

"Thank you," replied Eli. He glanced around the corridor." Leon, I need to know everything about what happened, who this man with the grudge is, _everything_ you have."

Vance regarded him closely. "Agent McGee was able to retrieve all the data from his computers and has them on a number of memory sticks; you'll need to talk to him."

"I will. Where is he?"

"Cafeteria with Abby; they're coming down to see Ziva once they've eaten."

"Good. What is the name of the man who created all this destruction?"

"Why?"

Eli shrugged easily. "If he tries to flee the country for another one, who is to say he will not choose Israel? I can put my people on alert."

"Man has a point, Leon," remarked Gibbs mildly, knowing that that was not the real reason.

"True," conceded Vance. "His name's Harper Dearing, You want anything else, McGee has it."

"Good." Eli smiled calmly. "Good."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

"I am bored," Ziva declared four hours later. "This is the most uninteresting ceiling I have ever been forced to stare at for any period of time."

"You spent a lot of time staring at ceilings growing up?" asked Tony, giving her a strange look.

She shrugged. "The ceiling in my art classroom at school was quite interesting."

Abby bounced in through the open door. "I have Fluxx!" she announced. She sighed impatiently when the other two gave her bemused looks. "Card game?"

"Is it complicated?" asked Ziva warily.

"Nope; you just do whatever the rules tell you to – they change, which is why it's called Fluxx," the forensic scientist elaborated. "Just us for the moment – Ziva, McGee's showing your dad something on the computer."

"Why would he be doing that?" asked Tony in confusion.

"It is probably best not to ask," advised Ziva sagely. "I find that is usually the wisest approach when dealing with him. Also, if any questions are asked, we can honestly say that we know nothing."

Abby was clearly torn, but in the end realised that Ziva was probably right and so she set about shuffling the cards and explaining how the fame worked. By the time she had dealt the cards out, McGee appeared, being pushed in the hospital wheelchair, so she dealt him into the game as well. Gibbs shook his head when Abby held the cards out to him and went back into the corridor with the two directors.

The four kept their chatter light on the whole, wanting and needing a distraction from the bomb, the deaths and Ziva's situation.

"_McGeeeeeeeee_, why'd you have to go and change the Goal?" whined Tony as the Goal was changed to Chocolate Milk.

"Because it _was _Rocket Science and you have the Brain," retorted McGee smugly.

Abby and Ziva rolled their eyes at each other and Ziva, adhering to the current rules of drawing three and playing two, calmly placed the Chocolate and Milk Keeper cards in front of her. "I win!" she cried in triumph.

"What? How did you…?" asked Tony. Smirking, Ziva pointed to the two cards she had just played. "Oh."

"Again?" asked the Israeli. "I rather like this game."

"Sure, why not?"

"Yay!" exclaimed Abby, gathering up the cards and shuffling them. "There's also Pirate, Zombie, Martian and a couple of other versions. I have all of them."

"Hey, guys."

Abby dropped the cards at the voice from the doorway. "_Jimmy_?! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon?"

"It can wait," said ME assistant Jimmy Palmer's new wife, Breena, from beside him. "We heard what happened. Have you heard about Dr. Mallard?"

Four confused and now-worried faces looked back at her. Ziva was the first to speak. "What do you mean?"

Palmer looked down at the floor awkwardly. "He's in hospital down in Florida. He had a heart attack." Gasps rang out across the room. "He'll be OK, they've said. He was on the beach when he heard about the bomb."

"Who's the guy with Gibbs and Vance?" inquired Breena.

"My father," replied Ziva. "Vance phoned him when they got me out and – and he just _came_, got on the next flight out of Tel Aviv." She still looked and sounded a little bemused that this had happened. "What is happening with Ducky?"

"They're going to transfer him up here in a few days," Palmer explained. "He wanted to be with all of us rather than down in Florida where he doesn't know anyone. He was pretty taken with some TV doc down there – he seems quite impressed with her. She has lots of stories to tell."

"She's a redhead; shouldn't that be Agent Gibbs' forté?" joked Breena.

Palmer shook his head. "Apparently she's a lesbian."

"Ah."

"We came up on the first flight we could get. We don't know anything, though."

"Three agents are dead, as well as a suspect and some government official," answered Tony soberly. "Gibbs got a concussion, Abby's a bit scratched up, you can see what state McGee and I are in, and Ziva…" He trailed off, looking nervously at Ziva.

"Tony and I were in the elevator when the bomb went off and part of the ceiling landed on me," explained Ziva in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone. She knew she would be giving this speech a lot in the days, weeks and months to come. "I have a spinal-cord injury and I am paralysed from the waist down. I will never walk again."

"Oh God…" said Breena, eyes wide as her hand flew to her mouth.

"She doesn't want pity," cut in Abby before Ziva snapped at the new Mrs. Palmer.

"It could have been a lot worse," added Ziva steadily, looking at Tony. He obligingly took her hand and massaged it comfortingly, knowing how much effort she was putting into staying calm. "At least I am not dead or completely paralysed." She shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Shall we continue playing?"

"We're, uh, going to get something to eat," Palmer said. "Not had anything since the departure lounge. See you a bit later?"

Sure. Food _is _important, after all," said Abby. "See ya later!" She and the three agents waved them off. "I kinda feel guilty for not being at the wedding."

"I'm feeling annoyed that I've not been able to get Dearing," muttered Tony.

Ziva ran her thumb over his hand. "We will get him eventually," she assured him. "He will _not _get away with this."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

The following morning, Vance was woken by his phone, which was on the cabinet next to his side of the bed. Instantly awake, he answered it. "Vance."

"Ah, Director Vance," came a man's voice pleasantly.

Vance instantly recognised the voice and scowled. "What do you want, Dearing?"

"To talk. Video-conferencing, to be specific."

"How? MTAC's a pile of rubble."

"I'm sure the FBI will let you use their facilities. Nine am sharp. You don't want to be late." He hung up.

Vance groaned and nudged his wife awake. "I've got to go. That was Dearing; he wants to 'talk'."

"Huh. Maybe you should get Eli to set Mossad assassins on him," suggested his wife.

"I suppose I could do worse. Love you, honey."

"Love you too, Leon." She rolled over and went back to sleep.

Vance got up and hastily threw some clothes on before going down the hall and knocking on the guest-room door. "Eli, we gotta go."

"Is something wrong?" came the response, his voice remarkably bright, but then panic seeped in. "Is there something wrong with Ziva?"

"No. Dearing wants to talk and I need to get to the FBI."

"Two minutes and I will be ready."

Vance pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through to Fornell's number and called him as he strode to the kitchen.

"Wha's up, Leon?" mumbled Fornell

"Dearing called. Wants a video conference at oh-nine-hundred hours at yours, seeing as he's blown up _my_ MTAC."

"I'll meet you there."

Vance ended the call and grabbed some food that would have to do for breakfast and gave some to Eli when he appeared in the kitchen. "So, Eli. You get to meet this terrorist."

"I am looking forward to it." He followed Vance to his SUV and soon they were on their way to meet Fornell at the FBI. When they got there, he and Gibbs were waiting, coffees in hand. Nods were exchanged and Gibbs, Vance and Eli followed Fornell into the meeting-place. Eli, on advice, lurked in a dark corner.

Dearing did not disappoint: at nine am sharp his face filled the big screen. "Good morning."

"To what do we owe the honour?" asked Vance coldly.

"How are you all?" asked Dearing pleasantly, as though he was merely catching up with old friends.

"What do you want?" demanded Gibbs, cutting straight to the chase as usual.

"To see how everyone is doing."

The volume of Gibbs' voice rose. "Five people are _dead_, Dearing. One of my agents will never walk again. Are you satisfied yet?"

"Perhaps. I need to think about it for a while. I need to evaluate the full extent of the fallout, analyse the news, scrutinise the effects all this has had on people's perceptions of and attitudes towards the Navy, that sort of thing." His face was blank, impassive.

"I want to speak to him." Eli got to his feet and strode swiftly to the front.

"He's not one of your agents; I have no need to speak with him," Dearing told Vance brusquely.

"Do you know who this man is?" enquired Vance, indicating Eli.

"No. Should I?"

"This is Eli David, Director of Mossad. You have, I take it, heard of Mossad?"

"Well of _course _I've heard of Mossad!" retorted Dearing and his voice took on a mocking tone. "Is the Navy so desperate they have to call in outside sources from the other side of the world? Just when my opinion of you couldn't get any lower."

"Mossad has a personal relationship with NCIS," Vance informed him. "Eli here – his daughter is an NCIS special agent." He smiled slightly at the brief widening of Dearing's eyes and the obvious look of surprise on his face. "You didn't know _that_."

"Oh, it gets better," Gibbs added, allowing himself to smirk, knowing precisely where his boss was going with this.

"Really?" For the first time, Dearing looked unsettled, despite his efforts to appear unfazed.

"Oh yeah."

"Eli's daughter," Vance continued, "is the agent who will never walk again. You rendered the daughter of the _Director of Mossad_ a paraplegic." He sucked in his breath, shook his head and made tsking noises. "Man, am I glad I'm not in your shoes."

"Am I supposed to be scared?" asked Dearing.

"You should be," Vance told him. "You should be." He gestured for the feed to be cut and Dearing's smug face disappeared from the screen. "We'll get him."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Later that morning, Gibbs, Vance and Eli were still holed up in the FBI, holding a video conference with several people in Tel Aviv, with Vance, Gibbs and Fornell in one corner, understanding very little, if anything, of what was being said.

Eventually, Eli gave a satisfied nod and bid farewell to them. He turned to face the three Americans. "I have a request."

"Go on," said Vance, shrewdly eyeing him.

"I can get you Dearing. I simply ask that I have seventy-two hours, starting now, to handle matters without any interference from NCIS, the FBI or any other federal agency."

The three men looked at each other before nodding. "Seventy-two hours," confirmed Vance.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Fornell.

"For my daughter, who will never walk again because of this man, even though she had nothing to do with his son and was not even in this country and had not even heard of NCIS when it all happened. I owe her this."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Thank you to my lovely reviewers! Did anyone get the _ER _reference in Chapter 4?

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 5

With a frustrated squawk, Ziva flung her book across the room. Tony ducked, more for comic effect than anything else as he could see how angry she was getting. "Hey, calm down, Zi," he said, warily approaching her bed.

"I cannot _read_, Tony!" she cried in exasperation.

"What, your injury make you illiterate?"

Ziva slammed her hand on the bed. "_Tony!_ How can I read when I have to hold my book in the air over my face? My arms get tired very quickly and I cannot hold the book up! What am I supposed to do if I cannot even _read_?" She had had _enough _of being flat on her back, barely able to move. "And I cannot even kick anything!" She let out another squawk and slammed both of her hands onto her thighs. "That did not hurt! I could slash one of my knives across my legs and I would never even notice!" She was shaking now, and tears of frustration and anger were threatening.

Tony grabbed her hands and pressed them together, wrapping his good hand around them, using the free fingers from his left hand to caress her face. "Heyheyhey," he whispered. "Zi, it's okay, we're getting you through this, you hear me? We've got you, we've_ all _got you. Whatever it takes. And I'm not going anywhere – I'm your partner, Zi, and I've got you. _Always_."

"How am I going to do this?" she whispered in a voice so broken that it reminded him of Somalia.

"I don't know," replied Tony honestly, "but I _do _know that we'll find a way. Together."

"DiNozzo," interrupted Gibbs from the doorway, beckoning to him. "A word."

"Boss…"

Ziva tugged her hands free and waved him away. "Go, Tony," she instructed.

Looking back and forth between them, Tony eventually decided that he should go with his boss and he followed Gibbs, pulling the door almost shut. "What is it?"

"How serious were you just now?" Gibbs asked him quietly, seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"How serious were you about what you said just now to Ziva? About always having her, about figuring out what to do, all the 'we' talk?"

Tony shrugged, not sure what Gibbs was trying to get at.

"I want to talk to you about Rule Twelve."

"Boss, wait, I don't know what gave you that idea –"

"And Rule Fifty-One," cut in Gibbs.

Tony frowned. "I don't see the connection."

Gibbs patted his shoulder. "DiNozzo, I have Rule Twelve for a reason. However, Rule Fifty-One includes me, and I think this time it applied to Rule Twelve. "When Tony still looked perplexed, he patted him again. "I mean, on this occasion perhaps I'm wrong about Rule Twelve being the best course of action." When Tony still looked baffled, he reached up and slapped him hard on the back of the head. "_Really_, DiNozzo?"

"Uh…" Tony rubbed the back of his head.

"Get in there," hissed Gibbs, "and _tell her how you feel_!"

"_OH!_" Tony's eyes widened as comprehension dawned. But Boss –"

"Do I have to slap you again, DiNozzo?"

"But she won't –"

"Di_Nozzo!_ I've been watching you two every day for _six years_; trust me. Get in there! DiNozzo, why are you still standing here?"

Tony was shifting back and forth anxiously. Had he really been that obvious? "I don't even know how to…" He knew it sounded pathetic, even to him. _Especially _to him.

_What is it with my kids? _thought Gibbs resignedly. "What did you say to her in Somalia?"

"How do you know what I said?"

Gibbs gave him a small, knowing smile. "She told me. You're not the only one who turns up in my basement in the middle of the night."

Tony's face fell. "She won't be able to do that any more."

"We can figure something out. Now, go tell her again what you told her in Somalia."

"On it, Boss." He hesitated. "So you're giving us permission to…you know, _date _each other?"

"No. "Gibbs shook his head. "I'm giving you my blessing."

"Uh…thanks, Boss." He took a deep breath and went back into the room, pushing the door almost closed. "Hey," he said softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide his awkwardness.

Ziva smiled weakly back, her vision blurry from unshed tears. "Is there something wrong? Has someone else died?"

Tony shook his head. "The Bossman wanted a word."

"About…?" She searched his face for clues, but couldn't read it.

He took a deep breath and moved to her side, earnestness in his eyes and voice. "You remember the conversation we had in Somalia, when I was under that truth serum?"

"How could I forget?"

"You remember what I said when you asked about why I came?"

Ziva made quote-marks in the air with her tired fingers. "'Couldn't live without you' are, I believe, the exact words."

"You told Gibbs." It was not a question.

She shrugged uneasily and looked down at her hands. "Is it a problem?"

"No. No, definitely not. He, uh, wanted to talk to me about…us."

"Us?" Whether it was the drugs or just Tony being his usual confusing self, she wasn't sure.

"Ziva, I – I meant what I said. And Gibbs knows. He – he said we had his blessing to break Rule Twelve, because Rule Fifty-One applied to him."

"I do not follow."

Tony picked up her hand in his, sat down on the bed and looked deeply into her dark eyes. "Ziva David, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met. You're beautiful, intelligent, independent, compassionate, insanely strong…I could go on. I'll admit it, I've been attracted to you ever since you first stepped out of that elevator when you caught me…well, you know." He felt his face go bright pink.

She smiled. "It was certainly a…_memorable _meeting."

"Yeeeeees… So. You've had several boyfriends since you came and yeah, I was jealous. I was jealous that they got you and I didn't." He took a deep breath, about to admit something that up until this point, nobody else knew. "When I was with Jeanne…" Man, this was tough, especially when her eyes darkened. "…When I was with her, I imagined it was you. It was the only way I could get through those parts of the assignment. And all those one-night stands and brief flings… They were just substitutes for the woman I really wanted. _You_."

Stunned at the admission, Ziva shook her head and pulled her hand away. "No, Tony. I am not good enough for you. Is this a pity thing? Or just desperation? I am not…wantable. Look at me, Tony! I will never walk again! I will be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life! I am damaged goods, Tony. Too damaged. First Mossad, then Somalia and now Dearing… You cannot possibly truly want me."

"They're what make you who you are, though, Ziva! I love you, _so much_, and I don't care about all that stuff; _you're _the one I want to be with. I want to be there for you and with you; however hard it is, I'm there. If you'll let me?"

_Stop it with the waterworks, David!_ she ordered herself as yet more tears threatened. She must have cried more since the bomb than she had done in her entire childhood. "Tony… I do not have a good track record with relationships. It always goes wrong – they die, they betray someone, they kill innocents… And how can you want me _now_, like this? Nobody wants a girl in a wheelchair!"

"You're way off-base, Ziva. Guy I was at college with – he proposed to his now-wife in the ER after a swimming accident that left her paralysed from the neck down. She can now just about use one hand to operate her electric wheelchair."

"Really?" She was sceptical and it showed.

Tony got his phone out of his pocket and brought up Facebook. "This is Adam and Becky a few weeks before her accident…and this is them on their wedding day. They're having a baby in a couple of months."

"Is that even possible?"

"Oh yeah, absolutely."

"Wow…" She had given up on fairy-tales a long time ago – growing up in Israel tended to have that effect – but was this an opportunity to have her fairy-tale now? She didn't deserve it, not after everything she had done and she had never dared to admit to anyone, ever, how she felt about Tony. Telling a photo of her dead little sister didn't count.

"We don't have to rush anything, if that's what you're worried about; we can take it as slow as you want."

Could she really take that risk? She glanced up and caught a glimpse of Gibbs in the doorway, smiling, and that clinched it for her. "I am willing to try, Tony," she whispered, finally able to meet his eyes.

He grasped her hands in his and leaned down, gently kissing her. She found herself responding, then broke free and reached up to touch his face with one hand, smiling. "Slow is good," she told him.

He sat up. "Now, seeing as you were complaining about having trouble reading, would you like me to read to you?"

She snorted with laughter. "I would like to see you try."

"Are you implying that I'm incapable of reading anything –"

"Other than a porn magazine?" she offered mischievously. "I was implying nothing of the sort!"

"Hmmm…" He got up to retrieve the book from the corner of the room.

Ziva bit her lip to prevent any giggles escaping – she knew what was coming. "See? Nothing to it," he said, waving the book at her, sitting down on her bed again, preparing to read. Then he paused and frowned. "This isn't English..."

"Very observant, maybe one day you _will _be able to read it, if you want."

"You'd teach me Hebrew?"

"Perhaps. I shall have to think about it." She smirked. "Depends if I want you to overhear my conversations."

"Oh, it's like that, is it, David?"

"Perhaps."

"What do we tell your father?"

She shrugged. "We have time to work it out."

"Where is he, anyway?" Tony looked towards the door and noticed that Gibbs was lurking there. "Boss?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Probably still at the FBI, working on something."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Is he attempting to track down Dearing?"

"Wouldn't surprise me. He wanted seventy-two hours, wouldn't say what for. I'll see you kids later." He slipped off, closing the door behind him.

"Tony? "

"Yeah?"

"I need to sleep. Can you stay with me?"

"Of course."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Partway through the night, Tony found himself being woken up by a pretty redheaded nurse that he would previously have not thought twice about flirting with – but he didn't need to now because Ziva was finally his. He smiled as he watched Ziva sleeping, then looked at the nurse. "Is everything OK?"

"We need to turn her so she doesn't get pressure sores," explained the nurse. The other nurse with her nodded in confirmation.

"You have to do it at night as well?"

"Yes. You slept through it last night." She went over to Ziva's side and gently woke her. "Ms David, turning time."

Groaning from pain and tiredness, Ziva's eyes half-opened and she muttered something, incoherent to the nurses but that Tony recognised; he gently prodded her. "English, Zi," he reminded her.

"Again?" she mumbled in protest.

"I'm afraid so," replied the nurse, Anna.

"Hmph." She closed her eyes again.

Tony rolled his eyes at Anna. "Was she like this last night as well?"

"Last night there was nobody to remind her to speak English," Anna told him. "What language was she speaking?"

"Hebrew – she's from Israel – though she's been a US citizen for a couple of years now," explained Tony. "How often do you have to turn her at night?"

"Every couple of hours still. You have to be really careful. Do you know anything about spinal cord injuries?"

"No. Nothing."

"I don't know that much, I'm afraid," apologised Anna as they adjusted Ziva's bedclothes. "The spinal unit do so they'll be able to help. I'm moving over there next week for a rotation, so I'll probably be seeing a lot of you two. What's your relation to Ms David?"

"She's my partner. We work together."

"Just your work partner?" Anna gave him a knowing look. "I've seen the way you two are with each other."

Tony shrugged. "Our boss has these rules, and one of them is 'Never date a co-worker'."

Anna gave him a wry smile. "Maybe we should introduce him to my Charge Nurse."

"My boss has already been married four times."

"My Charge Nurse is called Paul."

"Oh. Well, then there's no need to worry." Tony smiled. "Boss gave us his blessing to be together, so, here we are."

"That's really sweet."

"It's gonna be tough," said Tony thoughtfully. "Really, _really _tough. I don't know how she's gonna cope – she's always running, dancing, sparring, climbing…"

"I read her notes," Anna told him quietly. "I know her history. She's amazingly strong and I think she'll get through this: she's got all of you guys, and especially you."

"I hope so." He looked over at Ziva, fast asleep again and on her side facing him. She looked so peaceful like this, even though her hand was under her pillow like it had been when they'd gone undercover as married assassins so many years ago, and she was presumably now clutching an imaginary gun.

Anna put a hand on his shoulder. "I've seen enough patients to know. We've got some camp-beds for when staff and family have to sleep here; can I get you one? That chair can't be too comfortable."

Tony nodded. "That would be nice."

"I'll get it sorted."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Except Lauren – she's mine.

Hadn't intended this chapter to be so long, but that's how these things work sometimes! Thank you for all your kind words and reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy this!

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 6

"Ziva. Ziiiiii-vaaa. Time to wake up! _Oi, David!_"

"Mmph." She was vaguely aware of someone persistently saying her name and she waved them away. "More sleep," she mumbled.

"Tough."

She swore at him in Hebrew.

"Ziva David, you do _not _call people that!" Another man's voice, with an Israeli accent this time. "Do I have to ground you?" The first man snickered in amusement at this threat.

So her father was here as well. In her mother tongue, she mumbled, "_Too early_."

"It is eight o'clock in the morning, Ziva." In English.

_That _got her attention and her eyes flew open. "Gibbs will headslap me for being late…"

"The bomb, Ziva. Hospital."

She rubbed her eyes as full awareness penetrated her sleep-fogged brain. "Oh. Yes." She was on her left side, her back to everyone. "Tony?"

"I'm here," her partner assured her, moving so she could see him. "Need a hand?"

"Yes. I cannot see any of you. Can you help me roll over?" She _hated_ having to ask for help, especially for something this basic.

"Of course. What do you need me to do?"

"Pull my legs over. And no sneaky feeling me up, either."

He winked suggestively at her as he came into her line of sight. "And how would you know if I did?" When she gave him her remember-I-used-to-be-a-Mossad-assassin look, he subsided. "Shutting up now."

"On three," she said when she could see that he was ready. "One…two…_three_." As she pushed her upper body over, he brought her legs with it and she let out her breath once she was over. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Anything for you," he whispered back, quietly enough to escape her father's hearing, making her blush.

She patted the bed beside her. "Sit here?" she requested almost pleadingly. For some reason today she wanted him very close to her. She smiled when he did so and then took her hand in his; then she turned to her father. "I did not see you yesterday."

"I had matters to attend to. Dearing wanted to 'talk' with Leon and Gibbs and then I made a call to Tel Aviv from the FBI regarding the subject."

She regarded him shrewdly. "You are going after Dearing yourself."

"Not _personally_…Ziva, my dear girl, please do not ask questions on the matter."

His words confirmed her suspicions and she knew not to push the subject. "They will be transferring me to the spinal unit in a couple of days. I will have to look for a new apartment –"

"I can help with that," Tony offered quickly. "One less thing for you to worry about."

"I think it will be very difficult," she warned, a knot of anxiety in her stomach as she thought about it. "There will have to be adaptations…"

"We'll find somewhere," Tony assured her. "With parking."

Her eyes widened. "My car…"

"Easily adaptable," her father assured her. "You can get hand controls; I will look into it for you or the spinal unit will. They will know a lot."

Tony winced visibly. "Is that a good idea?"

"You never know," murmured Eli, leaning towards him conspiratorially, "they may decide to take her licence off her… Well, I can hope…" He winked at Tony, then had to duck as his daughter threw her pillow at him, glaring.

"My driving is not that bad!" she retorted.

"I would beg to differ," put in McGee from the doorway; Tony and Abby nodded fervently in agreement.

"It is _not_!"

"I suppose it _is_ a _little_ better than your mother's was," conceded Eli.

McGee looked slightly green. "You have my sympathy, Mr. David." Abby, behind him, rolled her eyes as Eli smiled wryly.

"So when do we get to start hunting down Dearing again?" asked Tony, his impatience clear and strong in his voice.

"We don't," Gibbs informed him from behind Abby, making everyone jump.

"What the hell, Boss?"

"Where do I _start_, DiNozzo? We have no base, no equipment, no leads or means of getting any, one agent with an arm and leg in plaster, one – you – with a wrist in plaster and one waiting to be moved to the spinal unit. Besides, Vance's orders are do nothing for the next forty-eight hours."

"_What_? Why?"

"He has his reasons."

"I am sure that they are good ones," Ziva said, pointedly meeting her father's eyes. "Will I be getting breakfast soon?"

"They're on their way," Abby told her. "Can we come in? Pleasepleasepleaseplease_pleeeeeeeease_?"

"How could I turn down such a request?"

"YAY!" Abby pushed McGee properly into the room so that she and Gibbs could get in. "Ziva, can my friend Lauren come visit you later?"

Ziva was confused at the apparently random question. "Why would she want to visit a stranger?"

"You have a lot in common." Abby exchanged significant looks with Tony, who immediately followed her train of thought.

Completely baffled now, Ziva shrugged. "Why not? I assume there is some purpose to it?"

"You'll see." The forensic scientist held out something grey and fuzzy. "Bert told me he wanted to keep you company and look after you."

That brought a smile to Ziva's face – there was something bewilderingly charismatic about the farting hippo toy, who seemed to have come out of the bomb even more unscathed than his owner. "It is an honour to be wanted," she told Abby, discreetly squeezing Tony's hand, her meaning clear and understood when he squeezed back. Placing Bert ceremoniously on the bed by Ziva's head where the pillow would have still been had she not thrown it at her father, Abby beamed.

Eli's phone rang at that moment; he answered it in Hebrew and then strode out of the room. Abby, far from his biggest fan, narrowed her eyes at his retreating back. "What's so urgent?" she hissed angrily.

Ziva shook her head. "Do not be mad, Abby. He is probably receiving important information."

"But what about _you_? You're his daughter and you're lying here in hospital, _paralysed_, no less –"

"Partially," Ziva gently corrected her. "I can still function normally above my waist."

"– and he's off doing secret stuff about God only knows what! I should've known – he always puts work before family so why should this occasion be any different?" She paused her rant in order to take a deep breath, though her hands were making strangling gestures.

"Abby," jumped in Gibbs briskly, "it could be something to do with Dearing."

"He _is _trying to find him, then?" Ziva looked to Gibbs for confirmation.

"I couldn't say." Gibbs' face was neutral, entirely devoid of any expression.

"Oh." Abby looked slightly awkward. "Well, if he is, then I guess I owe him an apology for underestimating him and thinking he didn't care about Ziva." She paused. "He never seemed to care much before."

"I think this has made him realise that he could easily have lost me," Ziva told her quietly, seriously. "It was an epiph… What is the word?"

"Epiphany?"

"Yes, that. Epiphany."

"Well, good. It's about time."

A nurse – not Anna; Anna was on the night shift – poked her head in. "Ms David, Mr. DiNozzo, breakfast."

"I'm starving," announced Tony, eyes lighting up as the food was brought in. "Extra bacon! You remembered!" He gave Ziva an apologetic smile. "I'd offer you some, but, you know…"

She rolled her eyes. "How convenient for you." Her own breakfast consisted of toast and scrambled eggs; she was looking forward to being able to sit up again. Apparently that would be feasible once she was over at the spinal unit. _Only two days to go._

Her father returned and tapped Gibbs' shoulder. "Progress," he murmured, a satisfied smile on his face. The other four exchanged looks and Ziva nodded briefly – this certainly sounded like her suspicions were on the right track. She knew how her father did things. But right now food was her priority.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Three hours later, Gibbs and Eli had disappeared somewhere, probably to the FBI, and McGee had been returned to his room with a notebook and pen, wanting to work on his next novel. Abby, too, had left some time ago with the promise of bringing Lauren. Tony and Ziva took advantage of this absence to spend some time together without any interruptions; Tony lay on the bed beside her, facing her, with his arm around her, and she lay with her head on his chest, half-asleep as he read to her.

There was something wonderful, Ziva decided, about this scenario: now that they had taken this step, they could enjoy it. When Tony stopped reading for a moment, at the end of a chapter, she gently tapped him. "I am glad we have Gibbs' blessing," she told him. Having to pretend and sneak around behind their boss's back would not have been viable in the slightest.

He kissed her forehead. "Me too. I never thought we'd be able to get it. You _are _cool with it, right?"

"Would I have said yes to you if I was not?" She tilted her head up so that she could see him. "My father's blessing will be much harder to obtain."

Tony nodded in agreement. "We can work on that. Think Abby and McGee have figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out?" demanded someone high on Caf-Pow, poking her head around the door. Her eyes immediately widened and she let out a high-pitched squeal that had both Tony and Ziva covering their ears. "You two broke Rule Twelve, didn't you? _OhmyGodwhat'sGibbsgonnasay_?"

Tony smirked. "Already dealt with it."

Abby looked startled. "And – and he's OK about it?"

Tony's smirk got wider. "Even better – he practically ordered us to."

"WOW." Abby stood there blinking rapidly.

"Everything OK?" called an unfamiliar voice from outside the room.

Abby clapped her free hand over her mouth. "Oh! Yes! Lauren!" She opened the door and dramatically flung her arm out. "Lauren Anderson, meet Ziva David!"

On cue, a woman of Abby's age with hazel eyes and glossy light brown curls rolled into the room and spun around dizzyingly fast. "Hihihi!" she exclaimed in a manner eerily similar to Abby; it was not a surprise that they were friends.

Now Tony and Ziva understood: Lauren was in a sleek, elegant rigid-frame hot pink wheelchair. The front castors lit up as she moved and the spokes of the back wheels were a matching bright pink.

Ziva was a mess of conflicting, colliding emotions – she was touched that Abby had done this for her and she was obviously trying to show Ziva that her life was far from over, but seeing the stark reality of her situation was an ice-cold stab to the heart. She tensed up and turned her face into Tony's chest, gripping his good hand tightly. With his left hand, he stroked her hair soothingly and he kissed her head. He could tell that she was silently crying: her body was shaking and he could feel his T-shirt (which Gibbs had kindly retrieved from his apartment the previous day) growing damp.

Abby bit her lip, a worried expression on her face as Ziva's reaction registered. "Was this a stupid idea?" she whispered, unconsciously signing at the same time even though Tony couldn't understand her.

Tony shook his head. "It's been less than three days; it's still pretty raw."

"Should I leave?" asked Lauren.

"No. Please don't. Just give her a few minutes."

"Okay."

He continued stroking her hair until the tears subsided and helped her adjust her position as she wiped her eyes. Lauren offered her a tissue, which she gratefully accepted. "Thank you," whispered Ziva.

"No problem," replied Lauren with a smile. "It's rough at first."

"What happened to you?" asked Ziva cautiously.

"I used to do crazy things – when I was in high school I got to try parachuting," explained Lauren. "It was _amazing_! I got _such _a kick out of it. But when I was in my senior year, I did a jump but there was a problem with the ropes and 'chute didn't open properly. I hit the ground pretty hard. Don't remember anything more until I woke up in the spinal unit a few days later – probably all the pain meds they put you on. They said it was a complete injury, which means that I have no sensation or function at all and never will, so there was no point working with the physios to try to recover anything. Thank God I can drive, though – I'd be so screwed if I couldn't. Do you drive?"

"Not sure I'd quite describe it that way…" remarked Tony, pulling a face. "Personally, I don't get how she _got _a licence in the first place."

"It is called Israel," shot back Ziva, "and it is the only way to avoid ambushes and roadside bombs."

"How many years have you been in the good old U S of A now?" This earned him a venomous glare from her. "What? Gibbs only ever lets you drive when he wants to make a point. Even your father doesn't like your driving – ow! Hey! _Ow_!" He attempted to protect his face from the pillow assault that Ziva had smirkingly launched. He yanked it out of her hands and thwacked her torso with it, making her shriek with giggles.

"Are they always like this?" Lauren asked Abby.

"They're usually worse," Abby told her, rolling her eyes. "If Tim takes refuge in my lab it's to get away from the paper balls and random other office supplies they like to throw at each other until Gibbs slaps them both."

Lauren looked at the battling pair and had an idea. "Hey, Ziva, do you want to have a try with my chair?"

Ziva gave her a nervous look. "Is that a good idea?"

Lauren shrugged. "Never did me any harm, and they generally like to get you moving about as soon as possible."

"But how do I get into it from here?"

"Tony, you can lift her, can't you? Abby, get a nurse to help or supervise."

"Sure!" Abby bounced off, clearly excited, and returned a moment later with Connie and Josh, during which time Lauren had shown Ziva how to transfer from the wheelchair to the chair.

"Ready?" Tony asked Ziva. When she cautiously nodded, he helped her roll onto her back, and then he put his left arm under her knees and his right arm firmly around her back while she put her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. "Lifting you on three: one…two…_three_."

Ziva let out a gasp of pain as Tony lifted her up and swung her round; her head started spinning from being upright for the first time in over two days. When he paused, concerned, she nodded. "Keep going," she requested through gritted teeth. She was determined to finish this.

It was a bit of a jolt when Tony put her in the chair. He helped her adjust her position as advised by Lauren so that she was sitting up with good posture, and then moved her now-useless legs so that her feet were on the footplate. Lauren's legs were obviously a little longer than hers, as her toes brushed the footplate rather than resting firmly on it as Lauren's did.

"How does it feel?" asked Lauren.

"The room is still spinning a little," murmured Ziva faintly. Tony promptly moved behind her so that she could rest her head against his body and gently rubbed her forehead and temples. She looked at Lauren as she put her hands on the pushing rims. "How do I move?"

"Use both hands to go forwards and backwards – that's it! To turn right, push forward with your left hand and at the same time pull back with your right hand. To turn left, push forward with the right and pull back with the left. Perfect!"

Ziva couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face – she was mobile again! However, it was very short-lived as the room spun again and she was hit by a violent wave of nausea, suddenly throwing up. Uncontrolled tears escaped from her eyes as she slumped against the back of the chair and Tony, weak and shivering.

"Get her back into bed," Josh ordered as Connie swiftly moved to clean up. Tony picked up Ziva, obeying Josh, trying not to be too upset by what had just happened. He could tell that she was in a lot of pain and he desperately hoped that the venture hadn't made her wore or set back her recovery.

When Tony laid her down, she gripped his hand tightly. "I think I need to rest," she whispered to him, drained and unable to speak any louder. "I would like to see Lauren again; tomorrow, perhaps?"

"Of course." He brushed his lips over her forehead and went over to Abby and Lauren, who both looked worried. "It was a bit much for her," he quietly told them. "Lauren, can you come tomorrow?"

She nodded. "How's two o'clock?"

"Sounds good to me. She's really tired."

"It'll get better," Lauren assured him. "Her body's still quite traumatised and on the mend; it's got a lot going on right now."

"Does she want me to go too?" asked Abby.

"You can come back later," said Tony, "but right now…"

Abby grinned. "Go take care of your girlfriend, Tony," she ordered, hugging him tightly before slipping out with Lauren and the nurses.

_Girlfriend_. Tony watched Ziva, mulling over the word and what it meant. Ziva David was no longer just his work partner; she was also now his girlfriend. _Don't screw it up this time, DiNozzo, _he ordered himself in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Gibbs'. _She's been hurt and messed around before and she needs you now more than she's ever needed anyone before._

He grabbed a spare blanket, kicked his shoes off and lay down beside her, pulling the blanket over them both. He helped her move her legs so that she was curled up into him. "I love you, Ziva David," he murmured softly by her ear.

"Love you too, Tony," she whispered back. She let her eyes close and she drifted off to sleep, comforted by his presence.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC

Eli once mentioned that Ziva got all her bad driving habits from her mother, I think in "Aliyah", in a conversation with Vance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine except for the TV presenter.

Thanks to Kaiablackrock and Thesarcasmlady for correcting my A/N at the end of the last chapter; it was indeed 8-08, "Enemies Foreign". I've watched both that and "Aliyah" recently.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 7

Two hours later, Abby came flying into Ziva's room with a television on a trolley. "Wakeupwakeupwake_up!_" she hollered, plugging in the television and switching it to a news channel.

"Wha?" mumbled Tony, half-asleep. When he heard Vance's voice, he flew upright, wide awake; Ziva blinked a few times before focusing on the screen. The programme had been recorded in front of the FBI a couple of hours earlier and was now being repeated by the channel.

"With me is the Director of NCIS, Leon Vance," the vaguely-familiar news presenter was announcing. "Director, this is the first statement you've made since the bombing, and all kinds of rumours have been circling on the internet regarding the perpetrators. What can you tell us?"

"I've seen and read a lot of the rumours," replied Vance, "and I would like to dispel them. Despite what various extremist organisations including Al-Qua'eda splinter groups have been claiming, this incident was _not _carried out by any of them."

"Then who was it?" The presenter looked and sounded surprised.

"It was a domestic act of terrorism. I would like to emphasise that the population at large _is not at risk. _The man who did this has _no connections_ to any terrorist groups. He has a personal grudge against the US Navy and NCIS; the only question now is whether he is satisfied and feels he had made his point. His name is Harper Dearing." A superimposed photograph of Dearing appeared in the top right-hand corner of the screen.

"Why does he have this grudge?"

"Following some unsavoury behaviour, his son, who was in the Navy, was reassigned; the ship he was placed on was destroyed in a terrorist attack and the son died."

"Bombing NCIS seems a little drastic, doesn't it?"

"I would say so, yes," agreed Vance.

"I understand several people have died in this bombing?" asked the presenter.

"That's correct. One suspect, one government official and three NCIS agents. Several other people are in a serious or critical condition in hospital. Another agent has been left paralysed from the waist down and will never walk again." At this, Tony squeezed Ziva's hand and kissed her forehead, and Abby put her hand on her shoulder.

"Have you been able to get the man who's done this?"

Vance shook his head. "Not yet. However, we _are _working on it with the support of other agencies and we _will _catch him."

"Which other agencies?"

"The FBI and CIA, as well as some assistance from the Israeli organisation Mossad." He looked hard and steadily at the camera, clearly aiming his eyes towards Dearing, wherever he was.

"That seems a little unusual, involving Mossad," observed the presenter, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"The director is a personal friend of mine; we go back many years," explained Vance. "He wants to help. In addition, his daughter is the agent who was paralysed in the incident. I would like to reiterate the message I gave Mr. Dearing that we _will _catch him and believe me, I would _not _like to be the target of the Mossad director's wrath."

"Don't think I've ever seen Vance look so angry," remarked Abby. The other two nodded in agreement.

"Do you think there are likely to be more attacks?" asked the presenter.

"I don't know but we intend to have Mr. Dearing in custody very soon," replied Vance confidently.

"Thank you, Director Vance. Now, back to the studio."

That was Abby's cue to turn the television off. "_So_."

"It has confirmed my father's involvement," said Ziva. "It is probably why I have not seen him since this morning."

The door was flung open, making them jump. "I am here now," Eli David announced, startling them. "We have him."

Tony's eyes widened in disbelief. "You found him? You found Dearing?"

"He is being interrogated by Vance, Gibbs and Fornell as we speak. Or maybe leaving him to bake – no, _stew _– for a while."

Abby jumped up and flung her arms around Eli, her previous animosity towards him gone. Eli let out a squawk as his ribs were crushed, which amused both Tony and Ziva; Abby hastily released him, babbling an apology.

To Ziva, it felt unreal. "Is it true?" she whispered.

"I have proof," her father told her, taking a camera from his pocket and handing it to her. "I knew you would need it."

Ziva turned on the camera and flicked through the photos. There was Dearing tied to a chair in what was clearly an old, abandoned warehouse; the man appeared to be uninjured. Then there were Gibbs, Fornell and Vance, along with four other NCIS and FBI agents, untying him, handcuffing him, hauling him off to the car and finally in one of the FBI's many cells.

"How'd he end up in that chair?" asked Tony. "Hell, how'd they even _find _him?"

"My people are the best," Eli replied simply. "I asked for seventy-two hours because I knew that that was all I would need."

"Will you be able to interrogate him?" asked Ziva, feeling a though she was in a dream, that this was not real.

"Leon has promised me." He walked up to her and kissed her forehead. "He will regret what he has done."

"I think he should be made to see the five bodies of his victims," declared Abby. "_And _he should be made to see Ziva."

"I'll kill him myself," growled Tony. "With great pleasure."

Ziva put her hand on his leg. "No, Tony. I am sure there are other ways of dealing with him." She glanced over at her father and they met each other's eyes with meaningful looks exchanged.

"But it wouldn't be as satisfying!"

"That is a good point," she conceded.

"I'm gonna go tell Tim," Abby decided. "I'll be back later." And with that, she whirled off.

Eli sat down in a chair, noting that his daughter was still curled up in Tony's arms. "How are you coping, Ziva?"

"I am getting quite bored of lying in bed staring at either a ceiling or a wall, none of which bear even a _slight_ resemblance to interesting," she told him acidly. "Maybe once I am in the spinal unit I will be able to get around, or at least have a window."

Eli smiled wistfully. "You never were one for being patient or cooped up."

"I could cope a lot better with it before you sent me to Somalia," she retorted bitterly, not looking at him.

"Ziva…" sighed Eli in frustration. "Did we not agree to move past all of that?"

She couldn't believe she was hearing this. "Do you really think it is that simple?" she hissed angrily. "That I can flip a switch on my feelings like I can with a light? That by finding the man who paralysed me I will immediately forget everything else that you ever put me through?" She knew her emotions were all over the place but for once in her life she couldn't control them, hadn't really been able to since the bomb. That angered and frustrated her, further fuelling the out-of-control fire that was burning in her.

"Ziva…" warned Tony quietly, feeling her tense up and start to pull away from his hold; he knew that if she did, she would end up on the floor and injured further. She was shaking and he tightened his grip around her waist, deliberately positioning his hold above her injury to ensure that she could feel it. "Not now. You can have this row when you're stronger and back on your feet – well, on four wheels."

"You _used _to be able to do that with your feelings," Eli reminded her sharply. "I trained you to."

"That was _before! _That was before Ari and Kate, and before Somalia! That Ziva is _dead_; she died in Somalia! Why do you think I resigned from Mossad?"

Eli was shaking his head. "Ziva, please…"

"Director David, I think you should leave for the moment," said Tony pointedly and firmly.

"Agent DiNozzo –"

"_Get. Out!_" hissed Ziva, her hand tightening around her pillow.

"Then I shall be back tomorrow," Eli informed her coolly, stalking out and slamming the door behind him.

Ziva went limp in Tony's arms, suddenly exhausted. He shifted so she could lie down comfortably and he felt his heart twist at the drained, resigned, bitter expression on her face and the tears that glistened, unshed, under her eyelashes. He put his left hand under her chin and turned her face towards his. Her eyes opened as she regarded him questioningly, her vision obviously blurred by the tears. "He is never going to change, is he?" she whispered despairingly. "Why do I still hope that he will?"

"I don't know," replied Tony frankly. "But don't beat yourself up about it. You needed to say those things to him and he needed to hear them; the ball's in his court now." He paused. "Want to know something?"

She shrugged.

"I like _this _Ziva, the one who allows herself to feel and be human, more than Ziva the cold assassin, the killing machine," he told her tenderly, his fingers brushing the tears from her eyes.

His words got to her and impulsively she reached up and kissed him deeply and passionately, putting all her emotions and pain into it, trying to communicate with him in a way that did not require words, wanting him to feel all she was feeling, to the same depths, not caring about the twinges of physical pain running through her body. She could feel Tony responding to it, but at that moment a spasm of pain shot through her back, jolting her away from Tony and making her cry out. She was aware of Tony lowering her to the bed but she couldn't see his face because the pain had made her screw up her eyes. "Ow!" she gasped, trying to adjust her body so that the pain would dissipate but ending up only exacerbating it and she sucked in her breath sharply as another spasm hit.

"Do you want to me to ask the doctor for painkillers?" asked Tony worriedly, noticing how pale her face was and the wrinkles of pain all over it.

"_No_," she replied firmly, shaking her head as the pain started to seep away, the spasm over. She wasn't sure what medication cocktail she was currently on, but she assumed it was quite powerful. "I am on enough already. It is easing."

"Want me to read to you again?"

She nodded. "I may fall asleep."

"Are you saying I'm boring?" he joked.

That brought a smile to her face despite the pain she was still in. "Of course not. You are never boring." She let him help her roll onto her left side and curl her up as he settled down with the book.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Thank you for the continued reviews and follows and so on; I really appreciate it.

Freshers' Week at uni at the moment; once next week comes I'll be studying for my MA in creative writing. So excited!

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 8

That night was a long, torturous one for Ziva; the doctors had lowered her pain medication and she was suffering the effects. Nightmares of the NCIS bombing were jumbled in with memories from Somalia and the day Tali had been killed by a suicide bomber. When it was not the dreams keeping her awake, the violent, excruciating spasms of pain that tore through her body, leaving her clutching Tony, Gibbs or Abby desperately and crying brokenly, did.

Tony was the only one who had not been kicked out multiple times (he had only been kicked out once and she had called him back almost immediately, when the next spasm had hit). By the time the nurse appeared with breakfast for Tony and Ziva, they were both dozing, exhausted. The nurse had heard from Anna that it had been a difficult night so she gently tapped Tony's shoulder. "Breakfast," she whispered.

Tony's eyes promptly opened at the mention – and smell – of food, and he grinned; with the nurse's help, he extracted himself from Ziva's hold without waking her. He didn't leave the bed while he ate, watching over her, relieved that she finally seemed to be comfortable and sleeping properly. He didn't have the heart to disturb her; her breakfast could wait.

Palmer hesitantly poked his head around the half-open door. "They've brought Dr. Mallard here," he told Tony quietly, noticing that Ziva was still sleeping.

"How is he?"

"Boring the staff with his stories already."

Tony grinned. "Sounds like the Ducky we all know and love. I'll come see him a bit later, depending on how Ziva's doing."

Palmer's smile faded away. "Is she OK? She doesn't look great."

"Bad night," explained Tony briefly. "It's either today or tomorrow they're taking her over to the spinal unit."

"I heard we got Dearing."

"Yeah, yesterday. I think Mossad had a lot to do with it."

"Good. What'll happen to him now?"

"Hopefully the death penalty – and if the courts don't issue it, I will." He put his hand over Ziva's, gently caressing it.

Palmer watched, confused. "What…? Are you two…?"

Tony nodded.

"But Gibbs…?"

"Ordered 'em to," Gibbs informed him, leaning against the doorway with a coffee cup in his hand. He nodded at Tony. "She let you back in, then?"

"Yeah. She's actually sleeping at last; I don't want to wake her. At least she's stopped snoring." He rolled his eyes, recalling the occasion when they'd gone undercover and he'd complained about her snoring. He had never quite been able to work out if she had been putting it on deliberately just to annoy him. "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"How's the interrogation going?"

Gibbs scowled. "Fornell's taken him to see the dead in the FBI's morgue. Didn't seem to care."

"Do you think they'll give him the death penalty if he's convicted?" asked Palmer, eyes wide.

"I hope so. If Mossad doesn't kill him first."

Palmer blinked, a little taken aback, even though he'd been with the team for quite a few years now. "Is that likely?"

"I think it would be front-page news if they _don't_," replied Gibbs. "Eli's getting a crack at him later."

"Can you bring the recording?" inquired Tony hopefully. "I don't want to miss _that_!"

"I'll see what I can do," Gibbs promised, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He lowered his voice and nodded in Ziva's direction. "Heard there was a row yesterday?"

Tony groaned. "He thinks she should still be the way she was seven years ago."

"He doesn't know her," Gibbs replied brusquely. "He never has done. And while he might want to try now, I don't think he's realised how hard it's gonna be." He nodded towards Ziva again. "She's waking up, DiNozzo."

Tony spun round and smiled as he saw her eyes start to flutter open. "Morning, beautiful," he whispered.

Ziva sleepily rolled her eyes at him. She reached down under the covers to roll over onto her side – and then visibly winced, turning red. _Not again_, she thought despairingly. "Tony?" she said quietly, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

He understood immediately. "Need a few minutes, guys," he told Gibbs and Palmer. Gibbs nodded, adding that he would get a nurse, having realised what the situation was; Palmer just looked confused. "Hey, Autopsy Gremlin, get outta here!"

Palmer obediently bolted and the two relaxed a little as a nurse and doctor came in; silently the nurse assessed the situation and disappeared.

"Ms David, I'm Dr. Kendal; I'm from the spinal unit," the doctor said by way of introduction. She looked to be in her mid-forties, with a kindly face and brown hair peppered with grey that was back in a ponytail. "Am I to understand that the staff here have yet to catheterise you?"

Ziva was confused. "They were meant to?"

"Yes. It prevents incidents like this," explained the doctor.

"I'm sorry," the nurse hastily apologised as she returned with clean bedsheets and a hospital gown, some warm water, soap and cloths. "The staff on duty when she was admitted didn't do it so I assumed there'd be a problem with the procedure."

"Then rectify it," Dr. Kendal ordered in irritation, though her eyes also reflected a degree of concern; Tony was instantly on alert, worried that the situation had created unnecessary complications.

"Of course. Ms David, are you ready?" The nurse held up one of the wipes and Ziva, still ashamed at what had happened again, nodded briefly. She reached for Tony's hand and he gave it to her, hurting for her. He knew she was placing all her trust in him to just be there and not exacerbate her discomfort. In the past he would have cracked a joke, but he knew better – she'd probably threaten him with whatever medical implements she could lay her hands on.

When it was over, Ziva was laid back down, not letting go of Tony's hand. She needed that comfort and reassurance from him and he was happy to oblige. Dr. Kendal noticed this and couldn't help smiling. "Ms David, I'm here to talk to you about the next stage in your recovery. Do you want to do that now or a little later?"

"I would rather discuss it now," decided Ziva, hoping that the sooner this was sorted, the sooner she would be moved to the spinal unit, where the staff would (presumably) be more competent than they seemed to be here. Also, she hoped it would distract her from what had just happened.

"Excellent." The doctor turned to Tony. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you two to each other?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged looks, wondering how to explain this; when he felt Ziva nudge him, he realised that she wanted him to take over and he smiled softly at her. "We've been work partners for about seven years. Our boss has these rules and one of them is 'Never date a co-worker'. But now we're allowed to break it; he actually _ordered_ us to break it."

"What made him change his mind?" It might seem like idle chitchat to an outside observer – and indeed, several past medical students had asked her about it – but to Dr. Elizabeth Kendal, every snippet of information was valuable because it gave her a better idea of her patients. She could gauge aims, goals, support and motivation that could aid or hinder her patients' recovery.

"This," Tony replied. "The bomb, Ziva's injury. The Boss has another rule: 'Sometimes you're wrong'. So he let us be…well, us."

Dr. Kendal smiled warmly. "That's wonderful. I'm a hopeless romantic, if I'm honest."

"I think Gibbs is, too, under that gruff, cynical exterior."

"Sometimes," Dr. Kendal told them, "I get patients who don't have the support you two obviously have. They're often the ones who don't do so well." She looked at Tony steadily. "Are you prepared to help her deal with the more intimate, unpleasant aspects that come with spinal-cord injuries? In this case the injury occurred at around T9 or T10, which means it's highly unlikely that voluntary bladder and bowel control can be regained." When she saw Ziva close her eyes and go slightly red, she continued. "There are methods to manage this, don't worry. You _will _be able to deal with these things – your hands haven't been weakened at all – so the incontinence is a temporary thing."

"I am not sure what you mean," said Ziva. Pain and fatigue were preventing her from being able to properly process the doctor's words. "If I cannot control them, how can I avoid being…incontinent?" She had to force the words out, deeply uncomfortable with discussing such personal matters.

"You're not going to be able to have the control you had before through muscle and brain messages – for example, if you need to go to the bathroom but you're not in a situation where you can do anything to relieve the issue, you can consciously hold it by sending messages from your brain down your spinal cord to the muscles. Because of where your injury occurred, you can't do that any more. However, by having a routine and using appropriate techniques that we can teach you in the spinal unit, you'll be able to manage your body in order to prevent accidents," the doctor explained.

Ziva took a deep, shaky breath, trying to not get too upset about all of this, the loss of control, the indignity of it all. "Tony, you do not have to deal with this –"

"Hey! I'm not having any of that talk!"

"But this –"

"Ziva, I know what I'm facing. Adam and Becky, remember? He told me about the reality – and don't forget she's quadriplegic so he has to do all this stuff for her because her hands don't work." He put his hand on Ziva's cheek, wiping away the tear that was slipping down her face. She gave him a small, weak smile and allowed the caress, enjoying his touch, not quite able to believe that he could still want her, even though his eyes were making that clear.

"When can I leave this place?" asked Ziva, not bothering to hide her impatience.

"I'd say early afternoon tomorrow, if you're fine with that?" asked Dr. Kendal. "But before we transfer you I'll want some more X-rays and MRI scans to check your spine."

Ziva nodded. "When I am moved, what happens?"

"You say goodbye to the acute stage and start the rehabilitation stage. Basically, we help you adjust to your new life."

"Sounds like Witness Protection," remarked Tony lightly, drawing a smile from Ziva.

"Perhaps…" The doctor didn't look too convinced. "Once in the rehab unit, we'll be working with you on upper-body strength, techniques for various things, transfers – for example, between your bed and your wheelchair – and, of course, getting you sorted out with a chair."

"Is there _any _chance she could ever walk again?" asked Tony, not really wanting to hear the answer. "I mean, is that something she could work towards?"

"No," answered Dr. Kendal honestly. "I'm not going to sugar-coat it and there's no point giving you false hope. I'm sorry, Ms David."

Ziva shrugged, turning her face away and biting her lip to keep a grip on her emotions. Though she had known that this would in all likelihood be the case, it was far more real hearing it from a specialist, and she felt the last shred of hope snap, her heart shattering at the confirmation. She felt Tony put his hand over hers as she rolled away from them, and she clutched it tightly, needing to feel that he was still there.

"Are – are you _absolutely _sure?" asked Tony desperately, pleadingly. "I mean – c'mon, this isn't just anyone, this is _Ziva David_, crazy ninja chick extraordinaire!"

"I'm sorry, Agent DiNozzo," said Dr. Kendal sadly. "It's never easy to hear, but I don't believe in giving hope when there isn't any; I've seen the damage it can do. I've had a couple of patients who were given false hope by other doctors and when they had the reality set out for them, they couldn't handle it and they committed suicide. One left a note that said if he'd been told the truth straight up, he wouldn't have done what he did."

"Man," said Tony, exhaling slowly. "That's…_Man_."

"I've never, _ever_ had a patient or come across one who's sustained an injury above T11 ever manage to walk again even with braces and everything. T11 is lower than Ms David's injury. In addition to that, on the ASIA scale, she's an A, which means there is no function or sensation whatsoever below the site of the injury and that will never improve," explained Dr. Kendal. She was experienced enough to recognise that her patient was not yet able to take in or process the information, so she directed her information towards Tony, sensing that he was able to take it in and he needed to know what they were facing. "There's no point starting down that road; we need to focus on what she _can _do, maximise the function she _does_ have, put all our time and energy into that. And she's got good function overall." She gave him an encouraging smile. "I can tell you that she's got a good chance of living a completely independent life."

"I want to know everything," said Tony firmly.

"There's plenty of time for that," the doctor assured him, "and the human brain can only take in so much in one go." She looked over to Ziva. "Ms David?"

"Hmmm?" mumbled Ziva. She had heard most of what the doctor had said to Tony, but towards the end her mind had wandered as she attempted to push aside the pain in her back that was threatening to spasm, and she couldn't retain any of the information.

"We've arranged for you to be transferred tomorrow afternoon, at about three; how's that?"

"Will I be _doing_ things rather than just lying here?" she asked, her voice tight with pain.

"Oh yes, definitely." Dr. Kendal smiled wryly as Ziva rolled over to face her, Tony automatically helping her. "Soon you'll be wishing you were just lying there."

"I doubt it," Tony said with a smirk. "Might be the case with your other patients, but this is my crazy ninja chick we're talking about."

"When do I get assessed for a wheelchair?" asked Ziva, slightly impatiently. "I am fed up to the wisdom teeth of being stuck here in bed."

"To the _back _teeth, Zi," Tony corrected, rolling his eyes at Dr. Kendal. "She's not good with idioms."

"The wisdom teeth are the back teeth, are they not?"

Tony opened his mouth to retort, paused, frowned as he thought about it and then closed his mouth, defeated.

"She's got you on that one," remarked McGee from the doorway; behind him, Abby giggled.

"Damn…"

"Hah!" cried Ziva triumphantly. She was determined to milk this rare moment all she could.

"They're letting me out today," McGee told them. "Boss is letting me stay with him for a couple of weeks and then Abby's coming over to mine. I can't wait to be out of this stupid wheelchair."

"_Timothy!_" hissed Abby in horror, giving him a Gibbs headslap. "Did you lose the filter between your brain and your mouth in the bomb?" She gestured furiously at Ziva.

McGee winced, more from the realisation of what he had just said rather than from the headslap, which was nowhere near as hard as the ones Gibbs generally meted out. "Ziva, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" He looked frantically at Abby in the hope that she would help him out of the situation, but her lips were pressed together tightly and her arms were folded over her chest as she shook her head in an I'm-not-going-to-get-you-out-of-_this_-one look.

"I do not mind," Ziva replied, shrugging off the comment. It had stung rather less than she had anticipated. "At least when I get _my_ chair I will be able to push myself around rather than having to depend on someone else to push me." She gave him a small smile to show him that she hadn't been hurt by his comments.

"Touché," remarked Abby admiringly.

"Also," put in Dr. Kendal, "your chair will be _much_ cooler than that one. Those are heavy, ugly, clunky folding things; you'll get a rigid-frame chair and they're insanely lightweight and manoeuvrable as well as really elegant."

"You've seen Lauren's chair," added Abby.

Ziva looked horrified. "I do _not _want _pink!_"

"You get to choose the colour, don't worry!" Dr. Kendal assured her, laughing.

"_Good._" She stiffened, gripping Tony's hand as a spasm of pain made her whole body shudder. When it eased, she relaxed a little, though her face retained a ghosting of the pain. He brushed her hair back from her face and she let him, welcoming the tender gesture.

Dr. Kendal's pager went off and she stood up. "Excuse me, but I have to go tell an eighteen-year-old that he's quadriplegic from a motorcycle crash and probably won't ever be able to use his hands again or breathe on his own. Ms David, I'll get the nurses to sort you out with what we discussed earlier." She hurried out, a sad look on her face.

"Poor kid," said Abby, visibly upset. "I can't even begin to imagine how awful that must be. I mean, he can't do _anything _by himself now, not even _breathe_. That's, like, a really basic thing."

"I think I'd rather be dead," remarked Tony. He glanced nervously at Ziva, wondering how she would take the comment.

Ziva gave him a reassuring smile. "I am thankful that that is not my situation. How is the interrogation of Dearing progressing?"

"We've not really heard anything," McGee told her, "although apparently he doesn't care what happens to him now."

"If that is true then it is likely he feels he has made his point and it is over," mused Ziva, more thinking aloud than anything else. She was tired and her body – above her injury – ached and throbbed. Behind Abby, a nurse was trying to get her attention and she inwardly winced, realising what the issue was.

Tony, too, quickly realised what was going on and was quick to deal with it. "Guys, can you come back later? Medical stuff."

"Sure," replied Abby and grabbed McGee's wheelchair. "Tim, we need to go on a Caf-Pow-finding mission; wanna come?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope!" And with that cheerful statement, they were gone. The nurse came in with a trolley and closed the door, asking briefly if they were ready.

Ziva nodded and closed her eyes, ashamed at what was coming, that she now needed this. Unconsciously, she gripped Tony's hand more tightly, and he leaned over and kissed her gently. "It'll get better," he promised her softly. Uncertain, she shrugged. "Trust me, Zi. You should take a nap after this; you look exhausted."

"I am," she confessed weakly. The nurse caught her attention and explained and then carried out the procedure; Ziva was relieved when it was over and she drifted off to sleep with Tony beside her on the bed.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, though the lawyer is.

Penultimate chapter of this fic! However, I'm working on a sequel to it – I considered having the longer-term effects on everyone and Ziva's recovery/rehab as part of this, but that's going to have a different atmosphere etc. to this, so I decided that this fic is focused on the "acute" stage, when everything has only just happened, and the sequel will be a more longer-term one (I hope that makes sense – I've had a hectic, busy day so I'm tired). I don't know how long it will take me to write because I'm just starting a Creative Writing MA (part-time over 2 years) so that's going to be taking up a good chunk of my time! So please bear with me. It'll be another "Aftermath:" story so you'll know which one it is.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 9

At two o'clock, a highly-caffeinated Abby bounded into Ziva's room, where she, Tony and McGee were playing a board game. The forensic scientist was waving an unmarked CD in the air, squeaking with delight, as she dived for McGee's laptop (she deliberately avoided Tony's, knowing that it was best to avoid inadvertently bringing up files she didn't want to see). "IgotitIgotitI_ got it!_"

Tony reached over and tugged the Caf-Pow out of her other hand. "'It' is a bit vague, Abs. A bit more info?"

"Sorrysorrysorry!" Abby babbled hastily. "Guess what it is."

"Abs…"

"_Pleeeeeeease?_" She clutched her hands together in a begging gesture and turned heavily-mascaraed puppy-dog eyes on him. "You have to guess."

"If it's Vance moonlighting as a porn star, even I don't want to see it," Tony informed her.

"_Ewwwwww!_" Abby looked violated and Ziva gave him one of her You Are Seriously Disturbed looks.

"I didn't want to keep my lunch anyway," muttered McGee, glaring at Tony.

"Guess again." Abby bounced excitedly.

"Footage from when Ziva went undercover as a singer?" asked Tony hopefully, yelping when Ziva lightly punched his arm.

Abby sighed impatiently. "_Tony!_"

"Dearing in Ziva's father's personal torture chamber?" offered McGee, not entirely joking.

"You're getting warmer." Abby's eyes glittered.

Ziva caught on. "The interrogation?"

"Oh yeah!" Abby inserted the disc into McGee's computer to applause from the three agents. Tony manoeuvred McGee's wheelchair so that he could see the screen and then moved to the top of the bed so that he could have Ziva lying on him, her head on his lap.

Abby clapped her hands over her mouth. "Popcorn!"

McGee gave her a funny look. "Popcorn?"

"Popcorn! We need some!"

"Abby, this isn't _Legally Blonde _we're watching."

"C'mon, McSerious, we _always _have popcorn for the good interrogations!" put in Tony.

"I know _that_, I was just wondering how we're going to _get _any."

"I have some. I asked Boss to grab some when he brought me some clean clothes 'cause I knew we'd want it." He gestured towards the bag under the chair on which McGee's laptop was resting and looked smug. "I came prepared." He caught the large bag of popcorn that Abby threw to him and moved Ziva's legs to make room for Abby on the bed. "There are at least three bags in there."

"Sometimes, Tony, I really, _really _love you," declared Abby, retrieving another bag and opening it, before placing it on McGee's lap and sitting at the foot of the bed. "Now, are we sitting comfortably?"

"We're not in kindergarten." He ducked as Abby reached over to slap him.

"I'll take that as a yes." She hit Play and they fell silent as the recording started.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

The door of an unfamiliar interrogation room opened and Vance strode into the room with Fornell; a third man with an ill-fitting black suit, curly blond hair, wide blue eyes and a nervous expression on his face, followed them in. Fornell closed the door with more force than strictly necessary and indicated the blond man. "This is Peter Halifax, your court-appointed lawyer," the FBI agent informed Dearing, who was already sitting at the empty table.

Dearing looked confused. "Where's _my _lawyer?" he asked. "My _personal _lawyer. I don't want some court-appointed wet-behind-the-ears kid straight out of grad school!"

"Your lawyer is awaiting his own interrogation," Vance coldly informed him, removing the toothpick from his mouth.

"_What?!_"

Fornell allowed himself a small smile. "We picked him up last night and our forensics team are combing his house, office, computers, files and everything else for information and evidence. Perhaps getting your lawyer involved wasn't the smartest move, because now we've got him, and he's gonna talk because he'll want to save his own skin. Lawyers always do – sorry, kid, but it's true."

"But – but…!" spluttered Dearing in outrage. "Donovan would _never _betray me!"

"You'd be surprised at what a man will do to others when his own neck's on the line," Fornell remarked. "I've seen Mob men turn on each other faster than the blink of an eye."

Dearing calmly shrugged. "Donovan and I go back to high school."

"And these Mobsters have known each other since birth," countered Fornell briskly, unmoved.

"I, uh, I want to talk to my lawyer."

"Sure." Fornell and Vance left the room, leaving a very nervous Peter Halifax to converse with his client. The recording went black for a moment and then returned. Dearing remained in the same place and Halifax was beside him at the table, looking even more nervous and out of his depth than ever. Four men stood on the other side of the table in a row: Gibbs, Fornell, Vance and Eli David.

"So," stated Vance. His tone was devoid of all emotion. Dearing's response was to calmly shrug.

"Do you have anything to say to the families of those you have coldly murdered?" demanded Eli, clearly not wanting to waste time.

"Should I?" asked Dearing mildly. "Given who you are, don't you think you should be advising, rather than asking, me?"

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

All four in Ziva's room sucked in their breath and Tony winced. "Ohhh, he went there."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

"This is not about Mossad," snapped Vance. "Now, answer the man, Dearing."

"Don't answer that," advised Halifax, his voice trembling slightly as he pushed himself to sound more authoritative.

"No comment," declared Dearing.

"Three agents and two others are dead because of your actions; that's _murder_," Gibbs told him coldly, refraining from losing his temper just yet.

"Put that together with terrorism and you've earned yourself a one-way ticket to the death penalty," added Fornell, crossing his arms over his chest. "It'll be a miracle if you get off with a life sentence."

Dearing shrugged yet again. "Who says that's a good thing?"

"You paralysed my daughter," a seething Eli cut in. "Whatever your sentence, I can assure you that you will be spending every day for the rest of your pathetic life looking over your shoulder, wondering when Mossad will strike. _When_, not if."

"Are you threatening my client?" asked Halifax, sounding a little more confident.

Eli smiled icily. "Oh no, Mr. Halifax; I am _warning _your client. My daughter is well-respected within my organisation; there are many who may consider taking action without any orders to do so from me."

Dearing definitely paled at this.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

"He is not exaggerating," Ziva commented.

"He's threatening Dearing without _actually_ threatening him; I'm impressed," said Tony, smirking. "I like it."

"He does have a way with words."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

"Have you got anything else planned?" asked Vance sharply.

Dearing maintained his neutral expression. "'Anything' is a rather vague word, don't you think, Director?"

Vance rolled his eyes; he clearly knew that Dearing was attempting to wind him up – not that it would work because his children having an ice-cream war in the lounge was more likely to push his buttons.

"Answer the man!" ordered Gibbs, slightly sharper than before.

"Specifics would be appreciated," retorted Dearing, removing his glasses momentarily to clean them.

Vance sighed heavily. "Any attacks. Any more bombs. Snipers, gassing, poisoning. Anything at all targeting the Navy."

"That's more like it," replied Dearing, smirking.

"_Well?_" Eli's patience was already wearing very thin.

Another shrug. "Perhaps, perhaps not."

Silence fell for a good two minutes, with Dearing and Eli locked in a staring battle while the others looked on.

Eventually, Dearing turned his eyes away, unable to take the Mossad director's intense, piercing gaze any longer. Ziva was the only one able to outstare Eli. Gibbs, Vance and Fornell exchanged satisfied looks and Fornell stepped forwards. "You haven't answered the question."

Halifax looked nervous again. "You – you should answer that."

"Perhaps the Navy postal service should be paying attention to what passes through their hands," Dearing told them cryptically.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

"Anthrax?" asked McGee in alarm.

"Wouldn't be the first time, Probie," replied Tony.

Ziva shrugged. "I have received worse."

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Vance nodded at the other three men and then left the room. Dearing's nervousness was increasing and Fornell winked at Gibbs. "Do you know what most people are saying about the Navy?" inquired the FBI agent, his tone slightly more aggressive than before and more like the one his agents were all-too-familiar with.

"Poor security, for starters. How else do you explain what happened the other day?"

"That's a good point, I almost forgot," said Gibbs mildly, catching Fornell's eye. "Kidnapping – or at the very least, conspiring to kidnap – a federal agent should be added to the charges."

"Not that it'll make that much difference to the sentence," replied Fornell. "After all, five murder charges not including the aforementioned deaths, terrorism… Don't think he'll get to see the light of day again."

"What about bodily harm?" inquired Eli conversationally.

"Ah yes, of course, mustn't forget those," agreed Fornell. "Fifteen agents, various other staff – how many of those, Jethro?"

"Either seven or eight, can't remember exactly," answered Gibbs. He approached Dearing, his eyes icy, and suddenly slammed four newspaper front pages onto the table. "_That's_ what people are saying!"

"Read them out," ordered Fornell.

"I don't think –" objected Halifax.

"He can read, can't he?" snapped Gibbs, cutting the lawyer off.

"Uh, yeah…"

"Then read the damn newspapers, Dearing!"

A little taken aback at the force of the outburst, Dearing hastily obliged. "'Bitter father goes too far'. 'Dearing the Devastator: how one man took his grudge too far'. 'Harper bin Dearing' – _what?!_"

"That's what tabloids do," Fornell informed him humourlessly.

"'Slaughter of Innocents' – how _dare _they?!"

"None of these people had anything to do with your son, so it's accurate."

"They're still Navy."

"Thompson Munroe, the government official your bomb killed? He'd never set foot on Navy ground before the day he died!" Gibbs shot back angrily. "Are you gonna say that to the faces of his family? _Are you_?"

"Uh…" stuttered Dearing, clearly flailing.

"And my daughter – what did _she_ ever do to you?" hissed Eli. "She was not even in this country when your son died, had never _been _to this country back then!"

"What would _you _know about losing a child to terrorists?" retorted Dearing.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

All four winced in unison, knowing that there would be an explosion from the Director of Mossad and Tony squeezed Ziva's hand tightly, knowing that her sister's death still hurt her deeply.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

"I know _everything!_" roared Eli, pushing over the empty chair with a loud crash. "I lost my youngest daughter to a Hamas suicide bombing! And she was the sweetest, most innocent girl you could ever meet! She had never harmed _anyone!_ Your son was hardly the cleanest of characters!"

Dearing leaned back slightly in alarm. "And you did nothing? I can't imagine that."

"I dealt with the people responsible! I did not deliberately target innocent parties who had nothing to do with it, with the aim of killing them!"

"I never meant to kill anyone!"

"But you _did!_"

"And good luck proving that to a judge and jury," added Fornell. "It was a _bomb._"

"You don't _make _a bomb unless you intend to cause injury, destruction and death!" shouted Gibbs, putting his face mere centimetres from Dearing's face. "You won't be seen any differently from Al-Qua'eda; that newspaper headline already proves my point!"

"But I'm nothing like them!" protested Dearing weakly.

"You're a terrorist! Doesn't matter if you're Al-Qua'eda, Hamas, Eta or anything else! The court hears 'bomb' and everything else you've done and they _will _see you as a terrorist! And people don't like terrorists and they _certainly _don't like seeing terrorists running around freely!"

"What was I _supposed _to do?" demanded Dearing. "The Navy failed my son and they failed me!"

"THAT'S NO EXCUSE!"

"There are _procedures_, channels you can go through," snapped Fornell.

"I tried," Dearing said.

"So you thought becoming a vigilante was the way to go?" demanded Gibbs.

"I had no choice!"

"YES YOU DID! There are _three _agents lying in the FBI's morgue! There are _two others_ with them! _All _of my team are injured and one of them will _never walk again!_ You could have chosen to not destroy the lives of those who had NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU OR YOUR SON!"

Dearing slumped in his chair, defeated.

"Take him back to his cell," ordered Gibbs disgustedly, walking out of the room and slamming the door shut after him. Nodding at each other, Fornell and Eli hauled Dearing off to his cell and the recording ended.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Final chapter! Thank you for all your reviews, follows, favouriting, etc.; I really appreciate it and I'm so glad you've enjoyed the story. My biggest worry was the interrogation scene, but you all seemed to enjoy it, which I'm really pleased about.

I don't know how long it will take before the sequel starts going up because I start my MA on Monday morning, but rest assured that I am working on it as and when I can, so keep an eye out for it.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

Chapter 10

Tony let out a low whistle. "Wow."

"I've seen _all_ the newspapers," said Abby, finally remembering to snatch her Caf-Pow back from Tony. "I've heard stuff on the TV, read stuff on the internet; apart from a few extremist nutty whackjobs who are _totally _out of touch with anything that could conceivably be even considered to possibly vaguely resemble reality – but you're always gonna get _those – _pretty much everyone thinks Dearing's a total asshole. His plan has _totally _backfired on him."

Tony glared at her. "That's not true. Five people are _dead_, Abs! Ziva's _paralysed!_"

"That is not what she meant," Ziva chastised him. "Dearing's aim was to make the Navy look bad; he has succeeded only in making himself appear a heartless, bitter, vindictive man. He wanted revenge – disproportionate revenge. That never ends well." She looked sad. "Look at what is happening in the Middle East. When – when Tali died, I wanted revenge on everyone with even the loosest links to Hamas. I can understand Dearing."

Abby looked her, aghast. "How can you _say _that?"

"I am saying I _understand _him, not that I agree with him, because I certainly do _not _agree with him."

"Don't you hate him for what he's done to you and to everyone else?"

A little surprised herself, Ziva shook her head. "No. I do not hate him."

"_I _do," said Tony angrily. "Everything he's done, killing innocent people, doing what he did to you –"

"I _pity _him," Ziva quietly continued. "I pity him for the death of his son and for the actions he felt driven to. I cannot bring myself to hate him; that requires too much energy that I would rather put into getting out of hospital as soon as I can. I _hate _hospitals!"

Tony ruffled her dark curls and smiled wryly. "I'd kinda noticed that." His comment made everyone laugh.

"I heard them all talking about getting the lawyer but I didn't know they'd been able to bring him in already," said McGee, closing his laptop.

"I want to see that interrogation," declared Tony. The others nodded in agreement.

"Do you think they've been able to do anything about the mail thing?" asked Abby anxiously.

"He got caught before he got to do anything," Gibbs informed them from the doorway, a satisfied smile on his face. "Everything was at either Dearing's home or the lawyer's, all ready to start today, the lawyer says."

"Took one look at Eli and Gibbs and crumbled," added Vance from the doorway, fiddling with the toothpick he had just removed from his mouth. (His wife had told him in no uncertain terms that if he went back to the cigarettes, he'd be sleeping in the garage until he stopped again.) "Couldn't get the words out fast enough. Claims Dearing forced him into assisting."

"A killer combination, Gibbs and Ziva's father," remarked Tony.

"Dearing's told us everything now. Won't be too long before he's charged." The NCIS director turned and left; Gibbs walked into the room and sat down on a chair.

"It's all gonna be okay now, right, Gibbs?" asked Abby pleadingly.

Gibbs stood up and went over to her, placing a light kiss on her forehead. "Yeah, Abs, I think it will." He looked around at the four he considered 'his kids', deeply thankful that he hadn't lost any of them. Things had changed for the team, massively and irrevocably, but they would get through this as long as they had each other. He wondered about what the future would hold for them all: McGee's injuries and Abby's protectiveness and caring of him were quite sweet; perhaps things between them would develop in the weeks and months to come. As for Tony and Ziva, they had been through so much over the last seven years and they were stronger than ever now. Gibbs was confident that this time, abolishing Rule Twelve was the right course of action, especially with Ziva's injury.

Abby's phone beeped and she pulled it out of her bag. "Lauren can't make it this afternoon. Can she come by tomorrow?"

Ziva nodded. "Morning would be best – they are moving me to the spinal unit in the afternoon."

"Cool! Hey, GibbsGibbsGibbsGibbsGibbs, wanna play Fluxx?"

"Er…" He looked mystified.

"Card game," explained McGee, retrieving the box from Abby's bag.

Gibbs shrugged and smiled. "You know what? I think I will." He sat back down as Abby shuffled the cards. Soon they would be back working on cases; these occasions to simply spend time with his kids were rare and the bombing had made them all realise how fragile life could be. He watched Tony lean down and gently kiss Ziva, and smiled in satisfaction.

Ziva shifted, realising that she'd been lying in the same position for some time. "Tony, can you…?"

"Of course! Guys, other side," he ordered before helping Ziva roll over. "You OK?"

She nodded, wincing slightly at the pain that was threatening to send her back into spasm; Tony saw this and was quick to give his hands to her so she could grip them when the spasm hit. As she held on tightly, her face screwed up in pain and she could feel tears prickling. She let Tony hold and soothe her, not caring any more about hiding the pain. When it dissipated, she went limp, drained from both the physical and emotional toll that the spasms took on her.

Tony moved so that he had her head in his lap and leaned down to kiss her again. "I love you, Ziva," he whispered. "I've got you; I've _always _got you and I always will."

"I love you too," she whispered back, eyes still closed. "I will not play Fluxx this time; I am tired and I hurt."

"Want me to kick 'em out?"

She shook her head. "No. I like having everyone around." She paused. "Where is my father?" she asked, a little louder.

"He's tied up at the moment – needed to use the FBI's MTAC for a conference call with Mossad," Gibbs told her. "He'll be over later."

Ziva relaxed into Tony's arms and lay there with her eyes closed, enjoying the moment. She had a long, hard road ahead of her but she was determined to come out on top. Harper Dearing was _not _going to win; Ziva David would.

*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*9*

End!


End file.
